


Caught and Cuffed

by L4ndOfTheL0st



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Bad boys whatcha gonna do AU, Blake is sassy and done with everyone’s shit, Childhood Friends, Cop! Yang, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Oh and Blake skydives, POVs will switch, Pining, Real World traits kinda/still faunus and it's Remnant, Soulmates, THE TENSION, The burn is slow but not that slow, Will add more as I go, lotta yearning, maybe some nsfw, mentions of violence and abuse, really gay, spicy bees, the au nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L4ndOfTheL0st/pseuds/L4ndOfTheL0st
Summary: Yang always had a thing for Blake. It’s why, years later, she was stunned to see the reserved girl she once knew all grown up.Blake still has her wrapped around get finger just as much as she did back then. Convincing her of that was a different story.Just one night.She doesn't want her to walk away.She’s not letting her go without a fight.She can’t do it anymore.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 51
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have most things already written out. Just a fun little self-indulgent thing Im doing lol. Comments are still appreciated though if you enjoy it! :D Excuse any missed mistakes.
> 
> So why not some Bees? 
> 
> The short prologue:

Yang’s tummy feels icky, and if she looked at her, she’ll know she’s been crying. She’ll know she told after she promised her she wouldn’t.

They even _pinky promised_ on it.

So, she focuses on it instead.

The glue on her hand and how weird it feels. It’s crackly and tight and kind of cold. Kind of like what she imagined alien skin would feel like.

_She’s gonna be mad at me._

Except their skin would be green. Or purple.

_She made me promise not to tell._

No. Hers would be yellow. Blake’s would be purple.

_She’s my best friend ever._

Her and her purple things.

_How could I not say anything?_

Xiao Long-Rose Family Rules: If someone is hurting, you help them.

_I’m only trying to help her._

The speaker in the room’s ceiling crackles, and they all look up. The rest of the class is hoping for an interruption—an announcement for the winners of spirit day, a surprise assembly, _anything_ —but Yang doesn't glance up. All she can do is hold her breath and focus on her alien skin.

“Mr. Port?” The Principal says through the intercom.

“Yes?”

“Can you please have Blake Belladonna gather her things and come to the front office please?”

“Alrighty then.”

_“Ohhhhh!”_ The whole class makes the collective sound, thinking Blake’s in trouble.

“Called to the principal’s office,” Sun says, smiling even with the gap in his teeth.

But Yang knew the truth.

She dares to look now. To see the worried look on Mr. Port’s face as he watches Blake get her lunchbox and cram it into her dark purple backpack. She keeps her head down, and her kitty ears were pinned down too. She misses the first time she tries to grab the zipper to close it.

Mr. Port doesn’t speak. He doesn’t head to the whiteboard or ask them to pay attention like he normally does. Instead, he walks over to Blake, puts his arm around her shoulders, and bends over to whisper something in her ear. Blake nods but keeps looking down, ears low, as Mr. Port gives her a quick hug before standing back up.

Yang wished her kitty ears would stop doing that. They make her look so sad, and she didn't like that. Blake was _so_ pretty and her ears were so cute. It didn't fit. 

Other people made fun on them before. Yang had hit the mean kids hard, but when she told her papa what happened he wasn't even mad any more. He said Yang was a good kid.

_“I can’t get mad at you for somethin’ I taught ya, sweetie. Those kids were mean to her for being different, but you knew better. You’re a good kid, Little Dragon, remember that.”_

She didn't feel like a good kid.

When Blake heads toward the door, Yang forgot all about her alien skin and Blake’s ears and stares at her from her seat in the last row.

_Look at me._

_C’mon, Blakey. Look at me._

Blake’s ear twitched before ultimately flattening down again. She stops right before she walks out the door and meets her purple eyes. There are tears in hers, kinda like how there are some in Yang’s.

“You pinky promised,” she whispers, her knuckles turning white as she clutches her backpack to her chest.

“Blak—”

“I _hate_ you. I never wanna see you again.” Blake mouthed the words and walked out the door.

Yang’s chest hurt.

She wondered if aliens cried too.

~~•~~

“10-4, Officer Xiao Long.”

Her voice, sweet and full of suggestion comes through the radio. Yang was ready for the ration of shit from Sun when she turns his way. His grin is wide, tail swaying goofily behind, as he just shakes his head and chuckles.

“10-4, Officer _Xiao Long_ ,” Sun mimics exaggeratedly. “Care to _rail_ me on the side of the road with that ’all clear’, honey bunch?”

“Fuck off.” Yang mumbled, turning her head to hide her smile.

“Dude, if she talked to _all_ of us like that, the whole force would be walking around with higher morale!”

“Nebula _does_ have a great voice,” She murmurs as a cheer goes up in the crowd to the left of them, drawing her attention. Drunken guys in board shorts, who are all sporting fraternity tattoos, are taking note of a group of tipsy people wearing close to nothing.

“A great voice. Yeah. Right. I’m sure that was _exactly_ what you were focusing on . . . because hell if that body of hers isn’t just, like, _amazing_.”

“No, because I’m not some horny creeper.” She shrugs, remembering all too well what she looked like when she straddled Yang. She could appreciate in silence. “You’re just a jealous fucker because I’m not gonna give you any details. What do I look like?”

“You won’t give me _anything_ , Yang. For all I know, you’re full of shit,” he says as he adjusts his bulletproof vest beneath his uniform, both officers constantly scanning the crowd.

“We both know I’m not. I’ve already told you I knew she wasn't straight.”

“Pfft,” he mutters under his breath, and she chuckles in response. This is the same conversation they seem to have every time she and Nebula interact on the radio.

“I think the hotline tip was wrong. I don’t see any gang activity here.”

“Neither do I. Just a whole lotta women in tiny bikinis, and I’m not complaining.”

“Wow, pig.”

“Well.” Sun shrugs as he points to his uniform.

“Touché.”

“Exactly. I can be clever cuz _I’m_ the smart one. You’re not, since you’re the one who walked away from Neb. Just one question, though, _why_ exactly?”

“None of your business.” Yang lifted her eyebrows and grinned. “To your right,” She says with a subtle lift of her chin as a shoving match erupts between two men outside Junior’s Bar. Alcohol. _Testosterone_. All day in the sun. Stupidity. It’s never a good mix.

They shift their attention and assess the situation. Friends take care of it, pulling the men apart before it escalates. “Gotta love the annual Vale Independence Day pub crawl.”

Yang sighed, pushing golden curls away from her face that fell from her unruly ponytail.

“At least it keeps us busy, I guess. Besides,” she says as she glances at her watch. “we have about three more hours on shift in case you wanna join them.”

“Nah. Give me a beer in my backyard with the fireworks over yonder and I’m good! While it seems cool here, I don’t need the havoc of it. We get enough of that on shift.” They both glance to the left as a woman screams, but then it turns to a high screech of laughter. “You heading over to your dad’s?”

“Yep. Ruby and Qrow will be there. You’re welcome to come if you want, Sun.”

“Help me, please,” sounds off to her left and grabs her attention immediately. It’s followed by what sounds like a laugh but is drowned out by the chaos of the crowded street. Hesitant that someone might actually need assistance, she and Sun move toward a group of women in a huddle about forty feet away.

“Can we help you with anything?” Yang says and removes her aviators as they approach to a hum of giggles.

“My friend here needs help, Officer Sexy,” one of them says, a darkly-tanned freckled woman. “She has a real thing for uniforms.”

The white-haired woman next to her scoffed.

Sun snickers beside her as Yang’s sense of duty fades when she realizes there is no need for help. They’re just women out to have fun. She stops before them, her thumbs hooked in her duty belt, and pretends like she didn’t hear the comment that she sure as hell did. “Soo, everything’s good here, then?”

“That depends,” says a silky-smooth voice of the only woman whose back is still to her, “if she asks you to give her mouth to mou . . .” her voice fades off when their eyes meet.

_There are tons of feline Faunus women out there with the ear trait. Lots of them probably have beautiful amber eyes too._

_It can’t be her._

_Can it?_

“...Blake?”


	2. Chapter 2

“...Blake?”

Her amber eyes widen, and her lips part. And for that split second, Yang sees the young girl from her earliest memories. The one with midnight hair and who held the stars in her eyes. The one she made pinky promises with. The girl she married in Elementary school with a red string-lined paper ring and a sunflower, that she swore to keep forever.

Her best friend who told her she never wanted to see her again and kept that promise before they drifted apart.

All the emotions came flooding back unexpectedly as she watched the familiarity that flashed across her face vanish. Visibly flustered, Blake shakes her head and takes an abrupt step back, bumping into her friend with the long ponytail behind her.

“No. I’m not her...” she denies.

“Blake?” It’s the ponytail girl again, and hearing that name— _her_ name—after all this time is like being sucker punched with a battering ram.

So she _wasn't_ mistaken.

“I’m fine.” Blake shrugs off the hand her other white-haired friend has put on her shoulder. Gone is the calm, cool demeanor she had before turning to see her, Yang Xiao Long—the girl she said she hated. Panic she couldn't understand, but desperately wanted to, replaced it.

“Blakey—”

“It’s _Blake_ ,” she snaps with a resolute nod before breaking eye contact and looking at her friends. “I have to go . . .”

“What are you doing here?” Yang asks a question, but it’s so much more than what it sounds like. _How are you? Where have you been? Why are you back?_ _Tell me you’re staying._ But she just stands in front of Yang and stares as if she can’t believe it’s really her and, at the same time, frightened that it is.

“Blake?” Yang reaches out, needing to touch her to make sure she’s real, but the minute her hand touches her bicep, she jerks her arm back.

“I can’t . . . I didn’t want . . .” She shakes her head and then looks to her friend before turning back to Yang with wide eyes as the color slowly drains from her cheeks. “Tukson just texted. He needs me to help. I . . . have to go.”

_Tukson? Who’s Tukson?_

And with that, Blake Belladonna—the girl she hasn't thought about in _years_ —with much difficulty–turns on her heel and walks away.

“Hold on, wait!” She calls after her as Blake makes her way through the crowd, her mane of dark hair the last thing she sees of her.

Just like before.

“And you are?”

There’s impatience in the voice that breaks the cobwebs of memories suddenly spinning in her mind, but it takes an elbow from Sun to bring her back to the present.

“An old friend of hers, ” Yang murmurs to the short white-haired girl, eyes glancing to the crowd Blake melted into, as if she were a ghost she was trying to find again.

“An old friend, huh?” She crosses her arms and juts a hip out as her icy blue eyes narrow and she decides if she wants to believe her or not.

“From childhood.”

“And your name is?” The other women lost interest in the conversation and begin chatting with Sun, but this one was laser focused on Yang.

”Um, Yang.” She stuck her hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

She stared at her hand for a moment before speaking, “Weiss Schnee, and I’m still figuring out if it is indeed nice or not.”

Yang looked down to her hand and then back up to her with a lift of her brows, prompting her to reluctantly shake it.

“So tell me, Weiss, why is it that you _automatically_ believe I’ve done something to hurt Blake?”

“First off, you called her _Blakey_. No one is allowed to call her that. She absolutely hates it.”

“ _First_ off?” Yang laughs. “It’s been less than five minutes, and you’re already suspicious enough that you’ve made a list?”

“Not suspicious. Curious. There’s a difference,” she says as she shifts her feet. “And yes, I like to make lists–be organized. As I’m sure you know as a police officer.”

“Okay.” She nods, fighting her smile. “Let’s continue with that list of yours then. Why else have you assumed I did something to her?” Yang glanced over to the crowd passing them by, making sure she didn't see any signs of that crew and the rumored trouble they were going to cause before looking back to Weiss.

“Because I’ve never seen her react like that to anyone before.”

“What d’you mean?” Now _she’s_ the one who’s curious.

“Hmm.” She eyes her cautiously.

“Look, there isn’t much kids olds can do to hurt each other besides steal each other’s toys,” Yang lies, damn well knowing what she did to Blake was a whole lot worse than that. ”And she didn't talk to me much after Elementary...”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Steal her toys.”

“Seriously?” Yang laughs, but it fades when she sees that she is. “I dunno. I don’t remember. Are you satisfied?” 

Weiss pursed her lips. 

”–and honestly we got married when we were little so _technically_ , I’ve earned rights to half her toys in the divorce anyway. It was stressful, y’know? I even started drinking, I hit the juice boxes hard.”

”You’re an _incredibly_ professional cop.” She said sarcasticslly.

“Thanks! Now, are you going to tell me why you said you’ve never seen her react to anyone like that before, or are you just going to rake me over the Lego coals for no reason?”

A slight smile curls up one corner of her mouth, and she looks over to her friends, making sure they’re preoccupied with Sun before meeting Yang’s eyes again. “Blake...doesn't take anything from anyone. She can give as good as she gets. She’s strong...she _made_ herself strong. But when she saw you? It was as if she was a different person all together. Almost like she saw a ghost.”

Funny, she felt the same way when she saw her.

All of that was a far cry from the quiet, introverted girl she knew before. Yang was lucky she even agreed to be her friend, boisterous as she was.

“We knew each other in grade school is all. A lifetime ago.” Yang shrugs, hoping the explanation is enough for Weiss when they were _so_ much more than classroom acquaintances.

“Okay.” She draws the word out, but her body language remains on the defensive.

“That’s it. I swear.” Weiss moves her hands to her hips but doesn’t speak, so Yang continues. “It’s been around ten years since we last saw each other after she left, so I’m sure she was taken by surprise.”

“Well, you saw her. She ran away. It seems to me she gave you her own answer of whether she wants to continue your little reunion or not.”

Yang nods, wanting to say so much more. Questions. Comments. Memories. All three collide, making her think she had the same reaction and that was why she bolted.

But her past is far different from Blake’s past.

_Leave it be. Leave her be._

“Ya done chatting, Yang? We... _kinda_ have a job to do.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She nods to Sun but held up a finger before turning back to Weiss. “Tell me something? Has she been okay?” The question is out before she can stop it and is so very different from the one she’d intended. She felt like an ass for even asking, but she needed to know. “Sorry. Never mind. Nice meetin’ you, Weiss.” She smiled and walked away.

Yang took about five steps before she spoke. “From what I know, she has.” She stops and looks back to her. “The girl is a bundle of perpetual motion and is always keeping herself busy. Maybe it’s a cover. Maybe it isn’t. But it’s how she’s been since I met her years back.”

“That’s good to hear. Thank you.”

“Why do you ask?” She angles her head and takes a step closer.

“When we were little, she was that friend. You know, the one who—”

“She’s that to me, too. I understand. No need to explain.” Her face softens, and her posture relaxes. “I can give you my scroll number if you’d like.”

Yang’s smile shifts to an awkward grin. “Uh, well—”

“I’m not hitting on you, Officer. Although, while I’m sure you’ve charmed more than your fair share out of their clothes with your smile and uniform alone, that isn't what this is.”

She chokes on a laugh, loving her spunk. “My ego isn’t liking you right now.”

“Your ego will live.” Weiss waves a hand at her in indifference before digging in her purse and pulling out a business card. ”Go on. Take it.” She holds it out to her. “Just in case you change your mind . . . or if you want to check on her again.”

Yang takes the card she offers, and with one last look that tells her that _somehow_ she understands, Weiss turns to her friends and they walk away.

“You ready?”

Sun looks confused that she’s not reacting. “Y-yeah. Sure, sorry.”

“Who was _that_?”

“Someone I haven’t seen in a while. You remember Blake, right? Before you moved to Vacuo with Starr?”

“Oh yeah! Knew she looked kinda familiar. Did you two finally date or something while I was gone?”

“Nah. We...stopped talking.”

Sun gasped dramatically, grabbing his face. ”But I got pretend-ordained to get you married! How did it all fall _apart_?”

Yang let out a sad laugh. ”Maybe because the ring was made out of string and paper?”

“It’s _you_ , Yang. You had _everyone_ lined up to play four square with you back then.” He chuckles, and Yang rolls her eyes. “Why’d she bail?”

“...I’m not quite sure.” She looks down to where she’d turned the card over in her hand and stares at Weiss’ name but thinks of Blake instead.

One thing is certain, Weiss isn’t here on vacation. The address on the card and area code are both local, which means she lives here. Does that mean Blake lives here, too?

_Forget it. If Blake has been around and hasn’t sought me out, she doesn’t want to see me._

But she knows she can’t forget.

She’d never completely been able to.

Blake obviously doesn’t want this ghost from her past around.

That’s the funny thing about ghosts, though.

You can’t control when they emerge or how they might influence you, but they always haunt you.

~~•~~

The engine’s roar fills Blake’s ears.

She runs through her mental checklist. _Finished_. Then she begins it again as the rush of cold air dances around her and whips against her cheeks. Her earplugs shift as she slides her jaw out of habit to equalize the pressure in her ears. She twitches her Faunus ears, making sure their plugs are stable as well.

She glances over to where Marrow is double-checking his own gear. “Heads up.” She shouts over the roar. He gives her a thumbs-up, and with that, she loosens her grip on the door and dives headfirst.

Her breath catches. Her blood is flooded with adrenaline. Her body spirals and hurtles and tumbles in a seemingly endless free fall.

But there is silence in her head. _Peace_. A bliss she can’t find anywhere else as she gains control of her dive, stabilizes, and masters the arch of her body. The ocean in the distance and the rolling green hills of northern Vale laid out like a topography map beneath her are as stunning as the first time she saw it like this.

There are no demands from Henry and his bank.

There are no duties left to fulfill for Tukson before she can call it a night.

There are no thoughts of Yang and those lavender eyes that met hers yesterday and surprised the hell out of her.

There are no demons from her past—the ones seeing her again brought out of hiding—trying to weasel their way in.

It’s _freedom_.

It’s just her hurtling toward the ground at what feels like a million miles an hour in what could be certain death.

It’s her hand deploying the ripcord and her body jolting against the force before rebounding up as the parachute opens and saves her from that death.

Yanking her back to reality.

Look at the fields sprawled out.

_I knew it was bound to happen when I moved back here._

At the waves crashing against the cliffs beyond.

_She is from before. I’m only about the now._

At the cars on the highway in the distance that look like ants crawling home in the early evening light.

Blake closes her eyes, hating that she’s missing a single moment of her descent, but she uses the moment to refocus her thoughts and shift gears.

With another slide of her jaw to re-equalize the pressure in her human ears, she opens her eyes and forces herself to admire the beauty of it all.

After a bit, sometime between the lull of the gliding and the serenity of the silence, she’s able to shut the world out and do just that. Enjoy the moment that will surely dissipate the minute her feet hit the ground.

She thinks about what she’ll do with this place once Vale Skies becomes hers. Fresh paint on the sign. New marketing to tourists and locals. Coverting the empty hangar into a clubhouse of sorts to entice the adrenaline junkies to stay longer and spend more.

She has to get the loan first. Then she can dream.

Her mental checklist begins again. The one she uses to make sure she doesn't neglect a single thing. It’s too easy to become comfortable when jumping out of an airplane day after day, so she uses the repetition as her safety net.

Her lone leash to sanity.

Plus, it helps her forget.

Well, in theory anyway.

“Weiss is thinking of having another one of her get-togethers again.”

Her jump coordinator’s eyes light up, his tail wags, and his lips spread into a huge grin. “Tell her thinking is not an option,” Marrow says. “She needs to pick a date and _commit_ so my stomach knows when it’s going to get treated to the good stuff again.”

“Obviously.” Blake laughs and shook her head. Friends, food, and _relaxation_ are just what the doctor ordered. 

”Just promise I won’t be forgotten when the invites go out.” He holds his hands together as if he’s praying.

“I promise.”

The phone rings on the desk before her, and Marrow goes back to finalizing his schedules.

”Vale Skies, this is Blake, how may I help you?”

“Blake! Just the person I wanted to speak to.”

“Great. Who’s this?” She glances over to Marrow, who’s sitting at his desk laughing at something.

“It’s Henry Marigold with Vale City Trust and Loan.”

“Oh. Hi, Henry,” Blake says as she sinks down into her chair and glances at the list of reports and paperwork he still needs for the loan. Of the ten items on it, she’s only been able to cross two off as completed, and she doesn't understand what three of the remaining eight even mean or how to go about figuring them out. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just calling to see where you are with getting the information I’d requested.”

“It’s coming. Slowly.” She chuckled because she already feels like she’s drowning.

“I know the list of requirements can be overwhelming, so know that you aren’t the only one who feels that way.” Sympathy resonates in his voice.

“That’s good to know. Since I’ve never applied for a loan before, I thought I was the only one.”

“No. Not at all. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Her laugh is part mortification, part reprieve. “Really?”

“Of course. Since you decided to forego having a broker represent you—”

“Only because I know the owners of Vale Skies and they preferred not to use one,” She felt the need to explain for what seems like the tenth time. What he doesn’t need to know is the lack of a broker was her idea. She simply won’t have the extra funds to pay them their fees once the deal is done. She’s stretched thin as it is.

Plus, a lot of places don’t want to support a Faunus-run business.

“No need to explain, Blake. It isn’t always necessary to have a broker. Besides, I told you I’d walk you through everything step by step, and I will.”

Her shoulders sag in relief. “Thank you. I really do appreciate it. You don’t know how much this means to me to have found—”

“No need to thank me.”

“I still feel like I should.”

“How about this? How about we meet for a working dinner? It will give me a chance to review everything with you and answer the questions you have.”

“I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“Nonsense. It’s just one of the many services I provide my clients.”

She chews her bottom lip, torn between pride and necessity. The silence stretches. “That would be great. I’d appreciate it.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.” He laughs, and she can hear a horn honk in the background. “I’m driving so I can’t access my schedule. Let me check it and I’ll email you some dates and times that will work.”

“That sounds great. Again, Henry, thank you.”

”Oh, it’s _certainly_ my pleasure...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s long and I tried to fix some edits, sorry if I forgot anything.  
> This is one of two parts because I didn't want it to be outrageously long.

“You smell like smoke.” Yang glances over to her little sister Ruby and makes a show of sniffing the air before bringing the wine glass to her lips.

“Occupational hazard,” she says before lifting her chin to where their dad is attempting not to burn steaks on the grill while he shoots the shit with Qrow. “We were doing drills today! I guess I didn’t wash all the smoke off.”

“Hmm,” Yang murmurs, part listening, part lost in thought.

“Sooo, are ya gonna tell me why you bailed on coming over on _Vale Independence Day_ sis? I hope she was worth missing out on the pie!” She giggles. “Did you—“

“You’re Miss firefighter EMT, why don’t you go help Dad put those flames out.” The diversion was intended to get conversation away from her sex life, but she’s not sure she’s going to buy it. 

Ruby sits there silent for a moment, and she can feel the weight of her stare as she looks at the flames flaring up on the old grill again.

“So, what happened?” she questions.

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with telling my _baby sister_ anything like that, but I digress. Nothing happened.” Another sip. Another push with her foot to rock the porch swing she’s sitting on.

“What’s the deal, then?”

“Nothing really. It was a long day, and then I ended up chasing ghosts for a bit and lost track of time is all.” Yang shrugs. It’s close enough to the truth.

“You should have just told us you got lost in a call. Is it one I know about?”

“Nope,” she answers, popping the _“p”_.

Ruby laughs. “Are you trying to be vague on purpose?”

She wasn't, but she knows that once she says something, it will become a Xiao Long-Rose-Branwen family free-for-all topic of discussion.

Ruby doesn’t push, which she’s grateful for, but her mind veers back to the ghosts. To the wondering and questioning and wanting to know more.

There’s the creak of her swing. The laughter of her dad and uncle. The squeal of kids a few houses down as they chase each other. The hum of a lawn mower somewhere down the street.

“You remember Blake Belladonna?”

Ruby’s bottle of water pauses momentarily on the way to her lips. “Vaguely,” she murmurs. “You two were like Bonnie and Clyde! She was at the house all the time or you were at hers . . . and then something happened and she moved, right?”

“Something like that,” Yang responded, realizing she was probably too young when it happened and probably doesn’t remember all the details. Having a father who was chief of police probably helped keep the facts quiet.

“Why are you bringing her up now?”

“I saw her the other day.”

“Really?! How is she? Did she move back? Is she—”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“No?” She reaches down and scratches Zwei between the ears. The old Corgi rolls onto his back without a care in the world other than wanting more affection.

“That’s the thing, she wouldn’t talk to me.” Yang glances up as the screen door opens, and Clover comes out with a basket of buns for the burgers.

“How’s studying going?” he asks, saving her from saying any more.

“It’s going,” She shrugs, thinking of the stack of index cards with questions for her detective’s exam on them. They’re sitting on her nightstand collecting dust.

“Well, let me know if you need any help,” he says, making her laugh. He was a caring guy, even when she’s studying as an _adult_. They all tried, though. After Summer died, Yang was the only constant female figure Ruby had in her life. They were both surrounded by men who only wanted to try their best, and they did.

“I will.”

“Time to eat!”

And eat they did. The mountain of food all but gone by the time they finished and sat back in their chairs with overstuffed stomachs.

“How was your night out, shortstack?” Qrow asks Ruby, leaning forward on his elbows, eager to tease his niece.

“It was just for work. It wasn't even anything!” Ruby denied. She turned to Clover with accusatory silver eyes. “That was supposed to be between us, Uncle Clover! Traitor.”

Clover chuckled, shrugging. “He got it out of me.”

“TMI.” Yang murmured, catching Qrow’s eye.

“So who do _you_ have on the line, firecracker?”

She didn’t even have to look to know her dad’s rolling his shoulders and getting that curious look on his face. It has become the norm when discussing her lack of settling down.

“I don’t have _anyone_ on the line.” She glares at him.

“You always have at least _one_ , if not three, falling hook, line, and sinker,” he continues with his gravelly voice. 

Tai chuckled. “Well, she _is_ my daughter. The Xiao Long charisma never fails. Pretty sure it’s genetic.”

“That’s such bullshit. I do not. I—”

“She has Blake Belladonna on the line,” pipes in Ruby, who then grunts as Yang’s foot connects with her shin beneath the table.

“Blake Belladonna?” Qrow says at the same time as her dad’s eyes snaps to his youngest.

“ _Blake_ Blake?” Tai asks.

“Seriously,” Yang mutters, knowing Ruby threw her to the wolves to save her own ass.

But when she met the expectant eyes of the three most important men in her life, there is a gravity to Tai’s expression that she hasn't seen since his days on the force. It makes her realize things were probably ten times worse for Blake than she ever imagined way back when.

As an adult, she can decipher those expressions and understand the things she couldn’t comprehend as a kid.

“Yes. _Blake_ , Blake.”

Clover’s face brightens. “Did she contact you on that ScrollBook thing?”

“ScrollBook?” Ruby says before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Unc, when are you ever going to catch up with the times? I told you I’d be more than willing to teach you how to use them if you’d like!”

“And I told you that I’d rather remain happy and oblivious to all the ways people can stalk me online. Qrow always had bad luck with that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Qrow nods, trying to stop this bickering before it starts. 

“So, Little Dragon,” Tai asks and gives her his investigator’s stare, “how did you get in contact with her?”

“I saw her in town the other day.” This has Qrow and Tai sharing another glance. “What’s _that_ look mean?”

“Nothing,” Her dad responds.

“Nothing?” She repeats.

“Just surprised to hear she was in Vale. Kali and Ghira moved around a lot. Lots of people couldn't tell where they were from, but I could hear that Menagerie accent a mile away.” His smile softened. ”I used to love that little girl as if she were my own. The daughter I never had–”

”Um, you have _two_.”

”–I used to joke around with your mom that you were going to grow up to marry her for real someday...” He chuckled. “As soon as my baby girl came home saying she had a wife now, and that the Wukong boy officiated the wedding. Kali couldn't stop laughing when I told them and said, _‘I’ve always wanted to have two daughters.’_ ”

“Of course you would think that.” Yang rolls her eyes. A small, sad smile crept up on her face with the mention of Summer.

“How is she? Was she well?”

She took a long sip of wine and wiped her hands on her napkin before leaning back in her chair shrugging. “No idea. I was working the crowd at the pub crawl when I saw her.”

“And?” he prompts.

“She saw me, and then she had to leave, so we didn’t really get a chance to talk.” Blake’s shocked golden eyes flash through her mind. She’s not sure why she lies to them about it.

“Are you going to see her again?” Tai asks.

“It was so abrupt, I didn’t get her scroll number. Besides, if I wanted to, I wouldn’t know the first place to look for her. She was probably here for the holiday or something and is gone now.”

“You’re a cop, in case you didn’t know.” The kick to the shin she gave Ruby moments ago is returned to her under the table.

“And your point is?” Yang grunts, raising a brow at her sister.

“You have all the super-cool stalking capabilities you need at the station!”

“Nah, I couldn’t do that,” she replies, but that doesn’t mean the thought hadn't crossed her mind before.

“Stick with that thought, Yang,” Her dad warns. “The last thing you need is to misuse city resources while being considered for a promotion.”

“And the chief speaks,” Qrow adds to lighten the mood with a laugh.

“Do you have more of that cobbler?” Ruby asks, effectively shifting the subject, but not before she saw one last glance between Qrow and Tai that leaves her lost in thought while the conversation moves on.

She was a kid when everything happened with Blake, and a teen when she dealt with the consequences. So it was hard for her to reconcile how nice her boyfriend, Adam, was with what she said happened to her. Now, she’s an adult and has seen things on the job that have taught her that even the seemingly-nicest of people could do the cruelest of things.

When Yang applied that knowledge to what she knew of Blake’s history, she can completely understand why seeing her may have caused some of the memories to rush back.

Chairs shift as the meal ends. The table is cleared. Dishes are washed. Ruby helps, but she gets more water on the floor than in the sink. The night wears on.

Soon, Yang’s hands are on the railing, her body braced as she watches the sun begin to set in the distance.

Her dad steps up beside her and slides an arm around her shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just thinking.”

“About a dispatch or about Blake?”

She should have known he’d revisit the topic. “A little bit of everything.”

“It’s okay to be curious about her, Yang,” he says.

“Yeah, but for some reason, I don’t think she wants me to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“She _bolted_ , Dad. She saw me, and I swear the look on her face went from happy to anxious. It was as if she was scared of me.”

But honestly, she should be used to people not wanting her in their lives by now.

“You’re a reminder of the past that she’s probably chosen to forget.”

“Yeah. I guess.” That still doesn’t explain why she’s here in Vale or why she can’t stop thinking about her.

“Are you going to see her again?”

“Even if I wanted to, I told you I don’t have any way to—”

“And I raised self-sufficient, resourceful girls. Don’t give me your excuses,” he says, putting her in her place before patting her shoulder and walking back inside.

_Fine_.

—

_What am I doing here?_

Yang glanced up at the sign above, and she knew this was a mistake right off the bat.

_Walk away._

She takes another step up the stairs.

_This is a mistake._

She knocks on the door and is greeted with the barking of dogs and nothing else. No sound of a normally functioning business. No phones ringing. No customers talking. Just a yellow clapboard house she probably driven past a hundred times and never noticed before.

_Good. She’s not here. Curiosity satisfied. Time to go._

And just as she began to walk away, she hears the pad of footsteps on the raised floorboards followed by the sound of a woman’s voice shushing the dogs.

“Officer,” Weiss says, giving her a smug smile when she opened the door.

“Citizen.” She nods, smirking.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Let me guess. You’ve come to restart your marriage with Blake.”

Yang stared dumfounded, trying to process what she just said before laughing and shaking her head. “I was _going_ to say hey, but I think your hypothesis is much more entertaining.”

“So, you’re telling me I’m mistaken?”

“You can think whatever you want.” She turns down her patrol radio as dispatch talks. “Hey, Weiss Schnee.”

“Hello, Yang Xiao Long.”

She nearly asked her how she knew her full name before she remembered the badge tag.

”So, what can I do for you? I know I’m a law-abiding citizen, so I’m not in any trouble.” Weiss raised a white brow.

“Not yet,” She says with a wink.

“Would you like to come in? I promise all of my clients are locked up tight.”

“Should I be worried about that statement?” Yang asks with a tilt of her head.

“Dogs. They’re all dogs. I own the building and I’m watching them. Blake hates it here.”

“Ahh, and now all the noises make sense.”

“In all seriousness, what do you need? Although, I seem to think I already know.” She motions for her to come in, and Yang shakes her head.

“I can’t. Thank you, though, I’m about to start my shift.” They fall silent as Weiss stares and waits for her to say whatever she’d come to say. “It’s about Blake.”

“I assumed.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans her shoulder against the door jamb.

“Is there any way I can get her number or you can contact her and give her mine? I’d really like to see her again.”

“Why?”

“To catch up.”

“To catch up, or to pry?” she asks.

“Look, all I want to do is see for myself that she’s..fine.”

“I already told you she is. Why would you think contrariwise?”

“You should be a police interrogator,” Yang deflects.

“Danger and I don’t mix unless you consider the jaws of a Rottweiler hazardous.”

“Sounds hazardous to me.” The woman has a way of changing the topic like no one she’s ever met before.

“I’m sorry, Officer Xiao Long, but I can’t give you Blake’s scroll number without asking her. For some reason, I think if I ask her, she would say no.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I saw how she reacted to you the other day. Then, when I asked about who you were, she wouldn’t tell me, so now the onus is on you to explain. Who are you to her?”

“I told you the other day. I used to know her back in grade school. Anything else would betray her confidence,” she says with a smile to ease suspicion. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I can tell you.”

“Are you sure that’s how you want to play this?”

“I’m not playing anything, just stating facts, ma’am.”

“Sure.” She shifts to put her hands on her hips. “My money’s on you being her first kiss or something like that.”

“Not quite, but you’re getting warmer.” Yang’s radio crackles to life again, prompting her to look at her scroll to see that she has a few minutes left until she’s on-call. “Thanks for your time, Weiss, but I gotta get to work. Sorry to bug you.”

“I can’t give you her number without asking her, but I _could_ invite you to an intimate get-together I’m having tomorrow night. And I might be able to tell you that a certain someone will be there . . . if you’d like to stop by and say hello or something.”

“Or something.” After Blake’s warmth toward her the other day, she can only imagine how _ecstatic_ she’d be if she showed up out of the blue.

“She could use a nice person like you around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, now curious about the company Blake keeps.

“Nothing. Oh, make sure you take that uniform”—she gestures up and down her body—“off before you come,” Weiss says, completely sidestepping her question. “Some friends might get a little freaked out if you show up in it. They’re a little… free-spirited.”

“Well if I blamed them for that, I’d be a hypocrite.”

~~•~~

“Promise me this little party is not one of your elaborate ways to set me up with somebody.” Blake says, placing a hand on her hip.

Meanwhile, Ilia took a bite of a carrot dipped in ranch and fought the urge to gag. “Why do people eat this fancy crap?”

“Because it’s good for you,” Weiss says as she hums around her kitchen and taking the diversion from Blake’s question.

“No. Sex is good for you. Chocolate is good for you. Wine is even better for you. They feed the _soul_. This crap,” Ilia says and held up the carrot, “only serves to make you miserable.”

“Says the woman who could eat nonstop every day and maintain her figure.” She rolls her eyes as she wipes her hands on a dishtowel.

Ilia reaches for the dish of candy and grabs a handful with a grin. “Sucks to be me. Pft you learned to cook and all of a sudden you think you’re hot sh–”

Blake leaned on the counter, rubbing at her temples. “Guys, shush. I’m serious, Weiss. You know I love you, but it isn’t enough to keep me here if you play matchmaker again. You try, and I _will_ flee.”

“No you won’t. As you said, you love me.”

Weiss isn’t making eye contact with her. That in and of itself makes her question whether she believes this whole party isn’t a ruse to fix her up with one of the many people that come and go in her life. She’s done it so many times, and yet, still has no shame.

“I _mean_ it. I don’t need your help in that department.”

“Yes. I’m well aware.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Blake narrows her eyes and stares at her until she looks her way. She tried to ignore how much she sounded like Weiss right then.

“It means you purposely pick people you don’t want to stick around.”

_Here we go again._

“And there’s a problem with this . . . why?”

“Because, at some point in your life, you’re going to want someone who is around longer than a second before you run, that’s why.” Her tone is serious when Blake wants to be anything but.

“I’m sure it’s more than a second.”

“I’m serious, Blake. What’s so wrong with settling with someone in a significant way? Not everyone is horrible.”

Blake sighed audibly to let her know she’s done with this conversation. “You make it sound like I sleep around. I have standards. And nothing’s wrong with settling down; it just isn’t for me.”

“You sound like you’ve already given up.”

“I sound like me.” She shrugs. “Promise me, Weiss.”

“Ah look, Marrow’s here. I’ll get the door.”

—

“It isn't that bad, Nora,” Blake says to the redhead.

“There is no way in _hell_ you’re going to get me to jump out of a plane. No way, no how. I’d have to have about fifteen more of these to even consider it,” she says as she raises her empty glass of alcohol and shakes her head.

“Drink up,” Blake teases. “The offer stands, though. You wouldn’t have to do anything other than enjoy the ride since you’d be strapped to me.”

“That sounds like a bad porno, but it still won’t get me to change my mind,” Nora says through a laugh.

Blake leans back in her chair as the conversation wears on. Marrow talks about his most favorite dive in Atlas as his tail wags excitedly. Weiss flits between the twenty or so guests, making everyone feel at home with her polite charm. The fairy lights in the trees add a soft glow, there’s a welcome chill to the summer air, and the food cooking on the grill smells like absolute heaven.

Even better, she’s kept her promise. She didn't see any unfamiliar faces Weiss can try to set her up with. And while she doesn't know some of them other than a casual conversation, she’s at least seen them before. It’s the perfect night. 

Well, maybe if she had some tea and a book.

“Don’t you think, Blake?” Marrow’s voice pulls her attention back from her thoughts, and she could find eight pairs of eyes staring at her waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry. I was thinking. What am I supposed to be talking about?”

“We were talking about—”

Blake doesn't hear another word he says because, just over his left shoulder, she sees _Yang_ standing in the frame of the door. She’s wearing denim shorts, and a purple-plaid flannel and a hand is shoved into her pocket while her eyes are trained on her.

She _hates_ that the sight of her makes her breath catch and causes a flutter somewhere deep inside her. She _despises_ that when she met her eyes, she wanted to see the little girl she once knew instead of the achingly gorgeous woman she’s become. More than anything, she hates that she needs to go when all she wants her to do is stay.

There’s an awkward moment where everyone notices her blatant distraction and falls silent. They shift to look at Yang before, almost as one, they turn back to stare at her.

“Excuse me,” Blake murmured as she rose from her seat, a mixture of irritation and confusion rioting through her veins. Her ears felt like they were glued down to her head in anger.

Weiss broke her promise. And not only did she break her promise but she did so with the _one woman_ who made the dreams she haven’t had in years come back. Last night, she woke in a blind panic: Pillow soaked with sweat, hands gripped in the sheets, ears pinned to her skull, and heartbeat out of control.

Her rational self knows it isn’t Yang’s fault, and yet, she blames her for scraping up the past, which is better left dead and buried.

If looks could kill, the one she shot Weiss would put her six feet under. The other guests murmur about who the stranger is as she makes her way toward her. Ilia made her way beside them, being one of the people openly ogling her.

“What are you _doing_ here?” She smelled incredible. Like lavender and a bit of citrus from somewhere. She was used to picking up on those types of things as a Faunus but couldn't figure out why she was zeroing in on that specifically. 

“Hi, Yang Xiao Long. Nice to meetcha.” Cool as can be, she ignores the irritation in Blake’s tone and holds her hand out for her to shake.

“Seriously?” She eyes her hand, noticing with closer accuracy, the rose on her wrist. It looked like the stem of the rose twirled halfway around before stopping at an unseen point.

Then Blake looks back to her.

“Oh, you’re going to remember that we know each other now? I’m sorry. I wasn’t quite sure if you were still playing games like you were the other day.”

Blake grit her teeth because she deserves the dig, but hell if she’s going to let her know that. “ _What_ are you doing here?” She asks again.

“Okay, so now we’re admitting we already know each other. That makes life _much_ easier, don’t you think?” She drops her hand. “Weiss invited me. She said she’s got good food, and well, I like to eat.” The shrug she gives Blake is casual, as if there is no other explanation needed, and that smile of hers never wavers from its charming slant. She hasn't seen her in years, and all of a sudden, she crosses paths with her twice in one week.

“In that case, she’s right over there.” Blake pointed to where Weiss was sitting, cautiously staring their way. It’s only then that she realized most of the guests are also watching them.

“ _That_ , and I wanted to see you again.”

The words on her lips falter as she tries to process why her being here has her so irritated, but it does. And just as bewilderingly, she can’t stop studying her. She can’t stop wondering about Yang and the woman she’s become. Is she anything like the person her mind had conjured her to be on the odd occasion she thought about her?

Blake can feel the weight of everyone’s stares on her back and knows they’re wondering why she’s acting so bizarre. Typically, she’d greet whoever the new person was in her nicely reserved way and welcome them into their little circle without a second thought.

“Okay . . . well, then . . . drinks are over there in the cooler and food is on the table. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the restroom.”

The kitchen was empty when she entered it, and she’s so very thankful for the silence to collect her thoughts. The irony is that the quiet doesn’t last long. Someone turns on the radio and music drifts in through the open french doors, along with her friends’ laughter and a voice that is unfamiliar yet familiar all at once.

She’d come inside to get some distance from Yang so she can think, and yet she’s standing here studying her through the window. Her golden hair, and eyes that held the purples of sunsets. How the sleeves of her flannel are pushed up to her elbows to showcase robust forearms. Her natural ease talking with everyone and instinctual awareness of everything around her like her dad used to have when they were kids.

It was a cop thing, and knowing there was all that power that she knew how to use behind such a model-esque appearance brought on unwarranted thoughts.

Yang is just like the little tomboy she used to know and nothing like her at the same time.

Well, she can’t be both of those simultaneously…and yet, she is.

“What’re you looking at?”

Blake jumped back at the sound of Ilia’s voice and was shocked to find her standing beside her, admiring the same view that she was. She was so lost in her contemplation that she hadn’t noticed her come in.

“Nothing. Just thinking.” Needing something to do with her hands, she turned on the faucet and began washing them.

“Uh-huh. That _nothing_ you’re thinking of has a mighty fine ass, if I do say so myself.”

It’s then that she realized that she’s supposed to be mad at these conniving bitches. “Weiss _promised_ and _you_ were supposed to keep me in the loop.” She dragged her eyes from her hands to meet hers. “I said I was going to bail if she did this, so I guess it’s time to leave.”

“Has she tried to fix you up with her?”

“No, but I know that’s only a matter of time.” Blake crossed her arms over her chest and followed her gaze. 

She can’t deny the ass part but that is beside the point.

She cursed Ilia now for sending her mind down that rabbit hole. Yang used to be her closest friend—her _best_ friend—wasn't it creepy if she agreed with Ilia? She was from memories she erased long ago.

And _this_ is why Blake came into the house in the first place. All she wanted to do was have a few drinks and relax with her friends, but now her head’s all over the place—courtesy of Yang.

“Weiss swore she wouldn’t, and I’m sure she intends to keep her promise.” Ilia bumped her hip against hers. “Besides, I made sure the Ice Queen got that tuna you love so much.”

_Tuna?_ Her ears perked up at the same time she tried to fight the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “ _Where_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two strong women in two different male-dominated occupations?? Summer and Tai shipping Yang and Blake since childhood?!
> 
> We love to see it 👁👄👁
> 
> No dumb societal standards or heteronormativity in THIS house!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to add on a good bit to the original I had but It was actually less work this time. So, uh, here ya go!

Blake glared at Weiss. She really wasn't trying to hear this over and over. It wasn't any better that she joined them just to be Ilia’s supporting role.

“Look, we ran into each other again, and I thought it might be nice for you guys to reconnect. What’s the harm in that? She’s obviously someone from your past. She’s obviously interested in catching up––” 

”–She’s obviously drop dead attractive. Holy _shit_ ,” Ilia added. ”If you don’t jump on that opportunity _I_ will. I wonder how good she is with those handcuffs.”

“And you both have _obviously_ lost your minds.”

“I meant no harm by it. I promise. I wasn’t even sure she was going to show. We’re typically surrounded by all my colleagues, so I thought it would be reasonable if you had your own friend here, too.”

Blake eyed her, knowing she can’t argue since she invited her with nothing but good intentions in mind. “I have you and Ilia. Besides, your friends are my friends,” she says exasperated.

“Exactly, and Yang is our friend now, too. That means I was allowed to invite her.” Weiss’ smile is smug as she expertly maneuvers her into a baseless argument.

“You’re both exhausting.”

“And you love us,” Ilia says, refilling Blake’s glass of wine.

“Most days.” The feline Faunus took a sip but her eyes were still fixated on Yang, and her mind is still on the confusion seeing her again has created.

“All days.” They both stated simultaneously.

Blake shrugged and agreed. “All days.”

Weiss smiled. “Okay, well, I need to get back out there. Are you girls coming?” 

”I think that’s Yang’s job.” 

”Ilia!”

The chameleon Faunus giggled before following Weiss outside.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” Blake shouted out to them.

—

“No way in hell.” Yang laughs, and Blake hates that everything about the sound pulls on her to pay attention when she doesn't want to.

“C’mon. A bunch of us jump. We could teach you,” Marrow says with more slur than conviction after whatever round of drink he’s on.

“I don’t trust anyone enough, let alone myself, to jump out of an airplane and rely on them to know the parachute is for sure going to deploy.”

“Sounds like you have trust issues,” Marrow says.

“Yes, how is that, Yang?” Weiss pipes in while Blake just keeps her head down and focuses on picking at her nail polish. “You risk your life every day doing your job, but you’re afraid to skydive?”

“My partner has my back,” she states.

“So, you trust your partner, but you wouldn’t trust a qualified instructor to tandem jump with you? They control the jump, pull the chute, and make sure you land safely.”

_Dammit, Weiss._

Blake sees the maneuvering going on here, and she doesn't want any part of the set up. She shifts in her seat and tries to find an out that won’t be so noticeable.

“Tell me something, Weiss,” Yang says as she leans forward and puts her elbows on her knees. “When was the last time you jumped?”

“ _Me_?” Weiss snickers. “You’re demented. There’s no way I would trust someone with my life.”

“And you just proved my point,” she says, and Weiss just shrugs, laughing more to herself. But that alluring laugh she has, which generally has most people sidling up next to the important woman, doesn’t seem to affect Yang.

Talk quiets some as they finish their dessert and Marrow brings another round of drinks for those who are ready.

“I swear every time Weiss invites me over, I leave having gained ten pounds,” Nora groans as she adjusts the waistband of her pants and then points an accusing finger Blake’s way. “And, of course, you’re gonna have another helping and grin the whole time you’re eating it.”

The Faunus’ hand stops mid-cut into another slice of fish, but the guilt is only momentary. It’s too damn irresistible to pass up.

“Bitch,” Ilia playfully comments.

“You always did have a thing for seafood.” It’s Yang’s quiet statement that has her friends turning their heads in her direction, the slow realization that she’s from the past she never talks about settling over them.

But Yang isn’t looking at any of them. When she glances up, her gaze is on her. Their eyes meet, and for a brief moment, she allows herself to wonder what it is she sees when she looks at her. Her soft smile exudes warmth, but it’s her eyes that draw her into places and times and thoughts that don’t belong in this lifetime.

There’s a stirring in her stomach that shouldn’t be there. The same one that has resurfaced each time the two of them have interacted in some way or another over the past few hours.

She needed to stop thinking about the red flecks in her lilac eyes and how she still has the hint of a small scar across her eyebrow from when she tried to jump her bike off a shoddy ramp.

_Familiarity_.

That’s what Yang is, and it’s something she’s not used to outside the world she’s created.

It’s too much. Too unexpected. Too close.

“Yeah,” Blake says as she stands abruptly and begins to clear the dirtied forks that were discarded when the paper plates were tossed into the fire. Her avoidance of eye contact only serves to compound the awkwardness and reinforces that she’s not acting anything like the person she’s made herself to be.

Once in the kitchen, she does things to busy herself. Wipes down the counters that have already been cleaned. Restacks the dishwasher. Anything to settle the discord she felt.

“Blake.” The low, pleasantly-smooth tone of Yang’s concerned voice cuts through her thoughts. Her hands still. Her heart races. Her feet turn to face her. “Is everything okay?”

_Yes. No. I don’t know._

She meets her eyes and struggled with how to respond. “I’ve worked a long time to make this life, Yang.” Her voice is shaky, and she hates that it is, but there’s no way she can disguise the emotion.

“Okay.” The blonde draws the word out as she cocks her head to the side, brows narrowing as if she’s trying to understand. “I wasn’t trying to interfere.”

“Then what do you _want_?”

“To get to know you again. To be friends? I don’t know, I just...I missed you, B.”

The endearment from their childhood tears into parts of her she didn’t know existed anymore. “You being here . . .” She struggled to explain feelings she’s not even sure _she_ understands. “You’re from another place and time I’ve tried to forget.”

Yang takes a step closer and leans against the counter, but her eyes never leave hers as laughter from outside floats in. She nods slowly, saying, “I didn’t know that my being here would upset you that much. I’m sorry. It’s just that since I saw you the other day, I haven’t been able to get you outta my head. I thought maybe we could be friends again. That’s all. Nothing more.”

“I can’t be who you want me to be.” Her thoughts explode into words she can’t believe she said and wants to take back immediately. For some reason, this conversation . . . _she_ made her nervous.

“Who’s that? I don’t want you to be anything.”

“A _victim_ ,” Blake whispers.

Those two words knock the wind from Yang’s sails. Her shoulders sag, and she roughs a hand through her golden hair before releasing an audible sigh. “Blake…”

“I don’t _need_ a hero,” She explains, thinking of all the times Yang had talked about someday being like her dad, a hero who saves everyone from everything.

_Unfortunately, the real world isn't the same as a fairy tale._

“No one said you did! I _know_ you don’t.” The red in her eyes burned brighter as her temper surfaced. “I’m confused. Did I do something to offend you? I’m only trying to...Gods, never mind. It was nice seeing you again, Blake. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No. Wait,” Blake says against her better judgement, causing her to stop in the doorway and face her.

Sadness fuses with the anger in her eyes, and the expression on her face mirrors everything Blake felt but couldn't express.

“Am I staying or going, Blake? Tell me what you _want_ from me.”

Words don’t come, and they stare at each other for a few moments before Yang nods in resignation and leaves.

The front door shuts. Marrow turns the music louder outside as Ilia began swinging her hips, but Blake remained in the kitchen with her chest hurting and her perfectly crafted world spinning off its axis. Even the sea food on the counter holds no appeal to her.

A part of her wants to chase after Yang and apologize. She was more than rude, and she deserved better. The other part of her has finally recognized the emotion she was feeling but couldn’t put a finger on. It’s fear.

She’s scared to death.

What she’s feeling is _scaring_ her. That tightly coiled tension between them _scares_ her. 

She couldn't answer her. She doesn't know what she even wants from her and it _scares_ her. Uncertainty is the hand that feeds the dark depths of her anxiety.

Out of habit, Blake ran a hand over the inside of her arm and felt the ridges there. The reminders that fear can be overcome.

She made herself strong and she refused to be weak.

Drawing in a fortifying breath, she debates whether she should go back outside, drink some more wine, and waste the rest of the night away.

Something tells her that just might exacerbate the traitorous feelings she’s having. Alcohol, Yang, and dismay are a dangerous combination that just might jostle things she’s long forgotten and never wants to remember again.

Blake spent the last ten years shutting herself off from all emotion—all _feelings_ when it came to anyone interested in her—and in a span of one week’s time, she let Yang change that.

Her black-and-white world has color seeping into its edges.

She loved and hated it all at the same time.

It made her feel alive inside when, until now, she hadn’t realized she’d been _dead_.

—

“None for me. Thank you, though.” Blake puts her hand up to cover her glass as Henry tries to pour wine into it. Again.

“C’mon, Blake. Just because we’re working, doesn’t mean we can’t relax some and have a drink, right?”

His cologne overpowers the scent of food in the restaurant, and there’s a soft whistle in his nose every time he inhales. She tries not to focus on it, but now that she’s heard it, she can’t unhear it.

“Where were we?” She clears her throat and lifts the profit and loss statement they were talking about before the waiter came with the bottle of wine. This, of course, came after the three glasses he had already had.

“I forget. Where exactly _were_ we?” he says in a playful voice as he scoots closer so they’re shoulder to shoulder. _Again_.

Trying the same move she has done several times tonight already, Blake shifts in her seat to put some distance between them. When she does, Henry reaches out and puts his hand over hers.

She stares at the silver rings he wore instead of at him.

Alarm bells sound off in her head, but she does her best to appear unaffected. It wasn’t the first time a man has tried to flirt with her when she didn’t encourage it.

She nonchalantly pulls her hand out from under his to pick up the income statement. “We were talking about last year’s net income of Vale Skies compared to the proposed loan amount.”

“Yes, we were.” He reaches across her to pick up an untouched glass of water, his elbow grazed against her breasts. She chocked it up to it being an accident, but she did not like it one bit. “But I think it’s better suited if we talk about you and me.”

“What _about_ you and me?” She asks, befuddled as to where this conversation was going.

“You know I’m the _only_ loan officer in town who would take a chance on you, a _Faunus woman_ , right?” His voice is low, and he’s so close that she can smell the wine on his breath. His honey eyes didn't match his greasy smile.

“Yes,” Blake inhaled and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the sudden emphasis he put on her race. ”...and as I’ve said before, I appreciate that.”

She tried to keep the venom from her voice, she needed this to go smoothly to get the loan.

“Nothing is guaranteed though.”

“I know.” She nodded and shifted her body again when he leaned in closer. “Oh, you know what I forgot to ask about? What’s it called? Darn. I forgot. Can you get the other papers off the seat?” Blake feigned stupidity to try to get him to go back to his side of the booth. His excuse that he needed to explain a calculation in order to sit beside her was _clearly_ a ruse.

“Forget the questions, Blake. I know one surefire way to make certain you get that loan.”

“What would that be?” She asks without looking at him, even though she’s pretty damn sure what he’s going to suggest next.

“C’mon.” Henry chuckles and the sound of it makes her skin crawl. “I’m always up for a little game of hard to get, but don’t you think we’re past that point?”

Blake chose her next words wisely because she was in a precarious position.

_Do I tell him to back the hell off and anger the only banker who would take a chance on me? Do I do that and risk losing my loan? Or do I just bite my tongue, politely refuse him, and bide my time?_

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. ” She decided to pick the latter option and hope it worked when every part of her begs to do the former.

“This loan process would go much smoother and be a little more precise, if you’d just give into our chemistry.”

Blake turned to look at him and startles when she finds his face within inches of hers. His dark eyebrows are raised and his stare is unwavering.

“Let me get this straight. You’re saying that, if I sleep with you, my loan will get approved?” She tried to hide the disgust she felt and wondered if he sensed it. Then again, it seems he’s in an alternative universe if he’s interpreted her disregard to his advances as her being even _remotely_ interested.

His chuckle rumbles in the small space around them. “Now, now, I didn’t say that, did I?” The smirk on his face and suggestion in his eyes says he meant exactly that. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth, sweetheart.”

“And if I don’t give into _‘our chemistry’…_?” His shrug is the only answer he gives. “I have a preapproval letter, Henry. The lender has already told me that so long as I get them the information they need and it’s accurate, they’ll give me the loan.”

“Preapproval letters _aren’t_ a loan approval,” he states, eyes hardening.

“I’m aware,” Blake says with confidence while hating that his veiled threat only serves to intensify her anxiety over getting her loan.

They stare at each other for a few seconds. She refused to back down or be intimidated by him. The man clearly isn’t the type of person she thought he was.

“Oh. Is it already six o’clock? Where did the time go? I need to get going.” The Faunus began putting the papers into a messy stack as a way to show him she’s serious about needing to leave. He doesn’t budge. “Excuse me, can you let me get out of the booth?”

Henry narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side, ruffling his blue undercut, as he studies her. “I need the rest of this information by tomorrow night.” His voice was cold when moments ago it was warmth laced with suggestion.

“Tomorrow night?” She laughs as if he’s joking but then realizes he’s not. Panic hits her. It’s going to take her _all night_ to pull this together. “I don’t understand. You told me I had until next Friday.”

“Yeah, well, plans changed. I need it by tomorrow night.”

“You’re serious...” She stated the obvious, still dumbfounded by the personality switch he just flicked over to the asshole side.

“As a heart attack. Unless of course . . .” He leaves the words unspoken, but his fingertip trailing down her bicep says it all for him.

Blake yanked her arm away and started scooting herself out of the booth, her hips hitting his to try to push him along. He relents but makes sure to stand well within her personal space as she gathered the rest of her paperwork. She hated the feeling of him watching her as she bent over to grab her purse and briefcase from the inside of the booth.

All she wants to do is get the hell out of here but she grit her teeth, forced herself to face him, and sound cordial.

“...Thank you for the dinner and for answering my questions. I’ll do my best to get the documents to you by tomorrow night.”

“Don’t _try_ , Blake. Make it happen.”

With bile in her throat and a film of revulsion coating her skin, she walked out of the restaurant as quickly as she could.

—

_How could I be so stupid?_

How could she have been so wrapped up in making sure she understood everything needed for her loan that she missed the signs Henry was giving off?

_He was just some perverted closet-racist that probably had a Faunus fetish._

Blake pressed the pedal down harder. The speedometer hits seventy miles per hour, but it wasn't fast enough.

First Henry—Then the realization that she had no other options but to deal with him and his creep factor.

The needle hits eighty.

Nothing will ever be enough to outrun that feeling she got every time someone expects her to bend to their will. To be subservient. To play the _victim_.

_Never again._

The long road is stretched out before her. Just fields, grape vines, trees, and flat asphalt, making her feel as if she were the only person on the face of Remnant itself.

Hitting the outskirts of town, she pushed the envelope of safety, but when you jump out of airplanes for a living, that envelope is harder to breach than for most.

With each mile she puts between herself and the restaurant, she feels the stress begin to shed. The pressure of making sure all of her documents are in order so she doesn't lose the loan because of some stupid mistake eases. And with the clearing of her mind comes the clarity.

Despite it being so much easier to pick up and run when people started asking too many questions about her past, she let Weiss and Ilia talk her into coming back to Vale. Her need to put away the runaway life she had been living and settle down to plant roots for herself was just a thought back then, yet, she’d been willing to try.

Then she found Vale Skies, which was in desperate need of some TLC, and decided that the girl, who went where the wind blew her, suddenly wanted something permanent. A business. A fixture. Something to be proud of. Something to start off her life anew.

Her desire to own Vale Skies and make it one hundred percent hers, and keep it rightfully as a Faunus-run business, had made her stay to fight for something.

And _fighting_ is what she’s doing.

The sirens come out of nowhere. Blue and red lights flash to tell her that her calm —her reprieve—has been compromised and was about to be shut down.

“Shit.” Blake pounded a fist against the wheel, knowing this would be her second ticket in seven months. The monetary fine. Points on her driving record. The increase in her insurance. All because she couldn't keep herself out of her head. She was just so _tired_.

All the consequences ghost through her mind as she pulls to a stop and waits for the cop to walk up to the driver’s side and read her the riot act.

“License and registration, please.”

Blake looked up to the sound of the deep voice standing outside her window and was met with her own reflection in his mirrored lenses. “Hi, Officer. How’s your day going?” She tries sweet-talking. She’s not good at it, but at least she’s not going down without a fight.

“License and registration, please, ma’am.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“How about going ninety in a fifty mile an hour zone?”

“Oh. Was I really going that fast?” She feigned innocence.

“Are you in a hurry?” Blake stared at him doe-eyed, unable to make her synapses fire so she can come up with some kind of brilliant excuse. “That’s considered reckless driving and is a major traffic violation. The endangerment of other drivers, pedestrians and property. Should I go on?”

With each offense her eyes were seeing dollar signs that her wallet didn't have.

The radio handset strapped to his shoulder sparks to life, and he responds in some kind of code that sounds like a foreign language. “No, Officer. The thing is, I left my house in a hurry—”

“I think we’ve established that fact.”

She look in her rearview mirror as another police car pulls up behind his, and her palms grow sweaty. Was she _that_ dangerous that they need _two_ units to handle this call?

“Anyway, like I was saying, I left in such a hurry that I didn’t grab my wallet. I don’t have my license.”

He angles his head, and even though she can’t see his eyes behind the lenses, she can feel them on her. “Then your registration?”

“This isn’t exactly my car.” She hears the door of the second unit shut behind them.

“Whose car is it then?”

“Vale Skies—the company I work for.”

“Do you need some help, Off— _Blake_?”

That voice. Her voice has her whole body wanting to seize up and melt at the same time.

“You know this woman?” The man says as Blake looked to where Yang stood in her dark blue uniform with the setting sun at her back.

“I do.”

“You wanna handle this call?”

“Sure,” Yang says, and after how things went between them the last time she saw her, she’s not sure if she’s relieved or worried.

“Thanks. You’ll be saving me from you know who and his wrath, coming home late from shift again.” He chuckled.

“Husbands,” Yang plays along and shrugs.

“Exactly.” He lifts his chin toward the back of the car, and the two officers step back there for a few minutes. They speak in hushed tones, before Yang steps toward her and the other officer climbs into his car.

“Gods, Blake. _Ninety_?” There’s a disapproving tone to her voice, but under it is something akin to amusement. “Seriously? You’re lucky Scarlet didn’t haul you off to jail for reckless driving.”

“We weren’t quite done, but I’m sure that might have been an option.”

“It _is_ pretty serious. And hauling you off is a pretty valid option for the safety of not only you but also everyone else on the road.”

“But there _isn't_ anyone else on the road. Can I go?”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

Yang takes off her sunglasses and hooks them in her shirt. Blake stared at them hanging from her neck because it’s so much easier than looking her in the eyes. But she stands there, hands braced on the frame of her window and waits for her to meet her gaze.

While she had been certain sweet talking would have worked with Officer Scarlet, at least until Yang mentioned the other officer’s husband, she has absolutely no idea what to say to ease the situation.

“You always had a flair for the dramatic.” The words are out before she realized it, and she hated herself for being the first to bring up the past when she didn't want her to do the same.

“Dramatic is one thing, Blake. Doing my job is another.”

“ _Oh_ , I see what you’re doing here. You’re mad at me for the other night when you have no right to be and—”

“This has _nothing_ to do with the other night and everything to do with the law and me enforcing it.”

It was weird to hear from someone who used to not care about rules.

The longer this conversation goes on, the more irritated she became, and a big part of her wants it to continue. If she’s pissed at her, then she’ll want her to go away instead of wondering what it would be like to see her again like she has been.

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“Give me one good reason why you’re in such a hurry that you need to go ninety miles an hour.”

The truth almost escapes but she stops herself before it does. Their eyes meet. _Hold. Assess. Ask_. And then she answers.

“I’m having a female emergency. I’m sure you understand that.” Blake ignores the fact that she’s wearing white shorts that no woman on her period would be caught dead wearing and Yang, being a woman, probably knew that. She just hoped to appeal to her, gender solidarity if you will.

Her lips quirk for a moment before she leans down so that her elbows rest on the door. “And?”

“Well, I was rushing to the store.”

“And that’s why you were going so fast?”

“Yes.” She nods, hating that Yang looked so unconvinced.

“What were you going to the store to buy? Some tampons? Pads? A cup, what?” Yang deadpans.

Blake’s cheeks burned, and she’d give anything to crawl under the steering wheel to avoid having to make eye contact with her. “..Yes.”

“ _All three_? That’s _quite_ an emergency if I’ve ever heard of one. I don’t remember ever having to buy all three.”

Already invested in her lie, she had no choice but to continue it. Blake clears her throat, but her voice comes out in a broken rasp. “Uh, just the tampons.”

”I see.” Yang nods slowly. “Funny thing _is_ , your car is heading in the wrong direction. All the drugstores are back that way.” She throws her thumb over her shoulder as Blake cringed at her mistake. “But being newin town and all that, maybe you just got turned around, _huh_?”

There’s a smirk playing at the corners of the Yang’s mouth while her embarrassment only intensifies. “Yes, that’s definitely why.” Blake squirmed in her seat to try to sell it when she knew Yang was probably not buying any of this. “Can I go now, _please_?”

“Go? To the drugstore? Of course you can. I wouldn’t want your situation to worsen because of all this time we’re wasting. Tell you what, Blake, if it’s _such_ an emergency that you were willing to risk life and limb to get there, I think I should give you a police escort.”

“No! That’s okay—I—”

“Lights and sirens. The whole shebang all the way to . . . Which store has the brand you prefer?”

“A police escort, Yang? Really?” Irritation mixes with disbelief.

“Now that you’re a resident of Vale, I’m at your service! Here to protect and to serve.” She flashes a grin that tells Blake that she was being a little shit on purpose. The blonde knows _exactly_ what she’s doing and plans to make her pay for it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Juneteenth everyone!

She _knew_ Yang was going to make her pay…and pay for it she does.

With lights and sirens. Parading Blake the long way through town until they pull into the drugstore parking lot.

Her cruiser parks beside her, and she has every intention of running inside and buying some damn tampons she doesn't currently need just to get her off her back. So, she’s completely _mortified_ when she climbs out of her car as she gets out of hers.

“What are you doing?” Blake asks, eyes flicking toward the random people who are staring at the flashing lights and the police officer standing in front of her.

“Let’s go.” Yang flashed a wicked smile that bit right into her chest.

Blake stiffened when she placed a hand on the small of her back and starts ushering her closer to the entrance. Yang nods and murmurs a few hellos to people who address her by name, all the while she’s trying to figure out how far they’re going to carry on this charade. She’s obviously trying to prove a point while at the same time, willing to make her life miserable in retaliation for her rudeness the other night.

When they enter the store, Blake immediately began to scan the directory signs above the aisles to see where the feminine hygiene products were located. _Anything_ so she can put distance between herself and Yang and this asinine predicament.

“Not so fast. Where do you think _you’re_ going?” Yang asks as she gently grabs her bicep, keeping her in place. Though, Blake noticed, she could easily escape from the barely-there touch if she wanted.

_Isn't that a big no-no for cops?_

“To find what I need.”

“No worries. I’ve got you covered. It’s an _emergency_ after all,” she says, leading her to the front of the store.

“What are you–”

“Shh. It’s all under control.” Yang points to her badge and smiles.

“No. It’s okay. I can find them on my own—”

“Excuse me, where are the tampons?” The blonde asks the Faunus service clerk at the front of the store. Some teenage boys waiting in line snicker. The young clerk’s face immediately turns bright red, contrasting against his sheep horns, as he stutters a response. “Better yet, we’re in an _emergency_ situation here. A ninety mile an hour type of emergency. Can you get on the PA and ask one of your associates to bring up a box for us so this young lady doesn’t have to search them out?”

_For fuck’s sake. Is she seriously going to do this?_

_…Yes, she is._

That irritation she was hoping for just hit full force.

“I can get them myself,” Blake grit out between clenched teeth.

“Oh, no need to. He’s got it under control.” She lifts her chin to the cashier, who looks less than thrilled to be asked to do this. “Go on,” she urges the clerk.

“Can I get some assistance to the front please?” the clerk asks, his teenage voice cracking on the overhead speakers. “I need a box of tampons brought up.”

“Tell them it’s an emergency,” Yang says as the kid looks over to Blake and then down to her pelvis before realizing what he’s doing and snapping his head up, more flustered than ever.

“It’s an emergency.” His voice booms over the PA system and draws the eyes of some of the customers waiting at the photo counter.

“Thank you.” She flashes a huge grin his way. “Oh, wait. What brand do you like, Blakey?”

“You’re joking, right?” Blake sputters.

“Only if you’re joking.” She lifts her eyebrows as she throws down the gauntlet to see if she’s going to come clean or keep lying. The problem is that Blake thinks if she doesn't continue, she might really drag her off to jail to prove a point. “I don’t think generic will do for such a _dire_ situation. Brand?”

Blake narrows her eyes and mumbles the brand defiantly.

Yang relays it to the clerk, whose cheeks are burning brighter with each second that passes. When the clerk continues to stare at Yang as if she’s crazy, which she’s beginning to think she is, the blonde points to the device in his hand. “Go on. Let them know so they don’t bring the wrong one and then we’ll have to start this _whole_ process all over again.”

The clerk goes to protest and then realizes that it’s in his best interest to relay the message. “To the associate in the, er, woman’s aisle . . . please make it....” He began.

Blake stare at Yang and her smug grin and knew there was no way she was going to let her get away with this. 

She was a woman, merely buying a tampon didn't embarrass her. She just didn't like a whole lot of attention being brought on her in general. She never did, and had a strong feeling that Yang remembered and was aware of that fact.

Yang wanted to be a little gremlin? Okay. Two can play that game.

“Are you still having that problem?” Blake loudly asks her, getting the blank look from her that she was banking on.

“Problem?”

“Yes. You know . . .” she cringed and gave her a sympathetic look before turning to the clerk. “While your associate is at it, can they grab one more thing for Officer Xiao Long?”

The clerk’s eyes widen. “Can’t she go and get it herself?”

“No. She can’t. She has a suspect in the car, and department policy says she can’t be more than one hundred feet away from him at all times.” She pushes Yang back as she tries to step forward and interrupt. “Please?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The clerk looks at Yang and then back to her, uncertain how he’d became the ball in their ping-pong match.

“She needs her STD meds.”

“STD meds?” The clerk’s voice was suddenly soprano.

“Hold up—”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Yang. A lot of women go through the same thing.” She pats her arm and returns the smug smile as the muscle in her jaw clenches.

“Blake,” she warns.

“Her daily medication,” Blake reiterates to the clerk, ignoring the hand that twitched on her bicep. “She’s really embarrassed about it. I mean I _told_ her that safe sex was important.”

If the clerk’s cheeks could get any redder, they would. “Th-that’s a prescription. The phar-pharmacy—”

“ _Blake_ —”

“The urologist already called it in.” She cut Yang off again, smiled sweetly at the clerk, and pointed to the instrument. “So just get on the PA and tell the pharmacy that you need the Chlamydia prescription for Yang Xiao Long to be brought up to the front.”

Yang’s hand tenses, and she swears she heard her mutter _son of a bitch_ as the clerk stares at her as if she’s lost her mind. Blake nods in encouragement to him.

He picks it up and keeps his eyes on hers the whole time he speaks on the PA system. “Uh, pharmacy, I need the antibiotic prescription for Chlamydia to be brought up to the front.”

“For Yang Xiao Long,” she says.

“The prescription is under the name Yang Xiao Long.” His voice rumbles overhead.

Snickers of laughter from somewhere in the store echo up to them. The teenagers in line shift their feet and try to hide their smiles. The older lady standing near the birthday cards glances her way and then shakes her head in sympathy. She can only wonder if the sympathy is because she’s having a period emergency while wearing white shorts or because her friend has caught a sexually transmitted disease.

“Nice try, Yang, but I think I won this round,” she mutters under her breath.

“Excuse me, Mata, is it?” Yang says to the clerk after looking at his nametag.

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell your associate that Blake here needs the largest box of tampons you have?”

“The extra-large size box on the tampons?” he asks and looks at Yang with wide eyes.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Associate, please make that an extra-large box of tampons.” Mata hangs the device up and is about to turn his back when Blake speaks.

“Mata, one more thing.”

“You’re joking right?” he asks exasperated.

“No, it’s important. Please?” She attempts.

“What?”

“The medication, can you make sure it’s the extra strength? The burning is really getting to her.”

Poor Mata looks at Yang and then back to her for what seems like the tenth time. “You two are crazy. I don’t want to be in the middle of your weird fight. Use the PA yourself if you need anything else.” He holds it out to her. She’s more than tempted to make her request but figured they’ve caused enough of a scene, and by all accounts, she thinks she won this round.

“Thank you for your assistance, Mata, but we’re good now,” Yang says as she releases her arm and slides her hand down to the small of her back. Blake stepped away from her with the low hum of her chuckle in her ears.

_Asshole._

The tension only builds between them as the seconds tick by. Yang chats amicably with the cashier about how nice the weather is while the poor kid fidgets restlessly and refuses to meet her gaze. Blake glanced around the store, waiting impatiently for the associate to bring the tampons to the counter and wondering what is going to happen with her antibiotics request.

Finally, the associate makes her way down the main aisle with the familiar blue-and-green box and holds it up to the male clerk. “Is this what you were looking for?”

Poor Mata blushes a darker red as Yang steps forward and takes the box from the associate. “Thank you, Clementine. You’re looking wonderful as always,” Yang says, prompting her to pat down her mass of light blonde hair between her feline ears. “How are Jett and the grandbabies? All still as rambunctious as ever?”

Impatient to get the hell out of there, Blake forced herself to watch the exchange between the two. Yang is holding the box of tampons in her hand, casual as can be like nothing happened. Not only is she privy to her personable skills with the nice lady who works here but also she’s in the position to notice how perfectly well Yang’s uniform pants hug her form.

_Stop it._ Here she is dragging her through this stupid charade, and instead of being mad at her, she’s checking her out? _Again_.

But it’s not just that. She’s also admiring the way her uniform sleeves hug her biceps and how broad her shoulders are.

But this is Yang Xiao Long. She’s the little girl she used to giggle, and play cops and robbers with. She was her best and _first_ friend . . . so how is it possibly okay to find her this damn attractive?

_It isn’t_.

That’s the plain and simple answer. She _can’t_ find her attractive. She can like her, but she’s off limits. Yang knows too much. Her just being there reminds her of before _too much_.

She’s too close when she’s never allowed anyone to be.

She can be mad at her. She can be pissed as all hell that a little while ago she was threatening to haul her off to jail because she was a smidgen over the speed limit. She can also be livid that she called her bluff.

That’s _all_ she can be.

Oh, and she can be pretty proud that she just met her tit for tat with her little plan to embarrass her.

“Right, Blake?” Yang’s stupid, honey-drizzled voice cuts through her thoughts—of _her_.

“Right, what?” She must look like a deer caught in headlights, and Clementine just smiles softly.

“She’s such a nice girl, isn’t she?” Clementine says as she pats her arm.

Blake smiles with so much saccharine that her teeth are going to rot. “She is.”

And then Clementine steps toward Yang and lowers her voice. “No need to be embarrassed, dear. You aren't the only one it happened to.” She pats her arm much like she did hers. “Try some cranberry juice, too. I may have experience in knowing it does the trick.” She winks and gives a knowing smile that leaves Blake biting back her snicker before she walks off as if she just talked about the weather.

Yang blushes for the first time during this whole charade and blinks as if she’s trying to make sure she actually heard her say what she said. She takes her stunned silence and uses it to her advantage by pushing a ten Lien bill across the counter to Mata. The poor kid is standing there trying to act like he didn’t hear the exchange when he clearly did.

“I got it,” Yang says with authority, taking her money off the counter and shoving it back in her hand.

“I can pay for my own—”

“No one said you couldn’t.” Her lips quirk into a cocky smile, a clear indication she’s regained her footing. “But it’s the least I could do to help out with your . . . _situation_.”

“Apparently, juice is what will help you with yours,” Blake says nonchalantly, needing to get one last cheap shot in, before she turns and walks outside to wait for her in the fading daylight.

Within minutes, Yang strolls out of the drugstore with a bag in her hand and stops before her. They stare at each other for a moment.

“Fucking _Chlamydia_ , Blake? _Really_?” she asks, disdain owning her tone.

“I can go back in and wait for your prescription, if you’d like?” Blake inquires, feinging sympathy.

“Cute. _Real_ cute.”

“You can dish it but you can’t take it.”

“You don’t _know_ what I can do.”

”I think I _do_.”

The air felt _charged_ , like something was about to snap. She just had no idea what it would be. 

”You get pushed to your limit and you try to get someone back–with _anything_ you can use that’s handy. I’m not the only petty one here.”

”I don’t know about all that but I’ve been told I _am_ pretty good with my hands,” Yang lets out, sounding close to a purr.

_Fuck._ She thought to herself.

Yang got on her fucking _nerves_. She got under her skin and now all she can think about is _skin–her skin._ Blood, veins and everything in between.

And judging by Yang’s smirk, she must’ve said that out loud.

”I bet I could push you to _your_ limit.”

Blake shook her head as if to dispel her thoughts and stepped closer. Yang mirrored her actions and her brain involuntarily took note of how she had to slightly bend to account for the Faunus’ shorter stature.

She felt breath on her cheek. ”I hate you.”

Breath on her ear.

”I know,” Yang whispered.

A new set of looky-loos slowed their pace as they walked by, curious as to what crime Blake committed, and despite her little show inside, she’s not a fan of being the center of attention. She was partly grateful for them, though. They broke her from whatever trance she was in.

“Are we done now?” Blake huffed as she held her hand out for the bag.

They wage a visual war on the sidewalk in front of store. The lights on her squad car are still flashing and lighting up her face as Yang looks down at her hand and then back to her. “You tell me, Blake. _Are_ we done yet?”

“It’s just a box of tampons.”

“Oh, this is about so much more than a couple of tampons,” she says, voice serious, amethyst locked on gold. They gaze at each other for a minute more, both of them wondering who will give in first. Blake wanting to believe the lie she tells herself that this is only about hygiene products against Yang waiting for her to realize she’s wrong.

“May I have the bag, please?”

“Of course you can, so long as we get _one_ thing clear.” Yang steps even closer to her and leans in. “Nothing’s changed, B. I can always tell when someone’s lying. _Especially_ you. That’s one thing about me that’s still the same, so it’s best you don’t forget that. Otherwise, next time will be a whole lot worse than a box of tampons you don’t need.” She did everything in her power to suppress the shudder from the intoxicating breath that caressed her skin.

At this point, her brain was just a traitorous double agent.

Blake grit her teeth as the blonde leaned back, those lilac eyes of hers laden with humor as she placed the bag in her hand. “Is that a _threat_ , Officer?”

“No. It’s a promise. I _assure_ you.”

~~•~~

Yang glanced around the quiet cul-de-sac as she stepped out of her cruiser. The street was a perfect picture of fictional Mayberry with its pristine cut lawns, blooming flowerbeds, tidied houses, bikes left on driveways, glimpses of swing sets above the tops of backyard fences.

Sun eyes her as they double-check the address of the house in front of them: 12663 Signal Court. It’s tan stucco with brown trim, above average in size. A minivan is parked in the garage with the door open, and an SUV is parked behind it. The garage is clean but littered with toys on one side and a table saw and drill press on the other.

Normal.

But that’s the problem. Sometimes it’s the normal that’s deceptive.

Sun ran the plates while she kept an eye on their surroundings. When the check comes back clean, they exit the vehicle. She glanced over to the neighboring house to the right and nodded at the woman peeking out the window from behind the curtains.

“Is she the one who reported it?” Sun asks as they cautiously make their way up the driveway.

She nods to tell him yes but doesn't confirm it aloud. “The caller wants to remain anonymous.”

“Mm-hmm.”

It isn’t surprising considering the call is a 10-16—possible domestic disturbance involving a minor.

The pathway is lined with river rocks. Interspersed into the multi-colored gray stones are some that are painted. There are a few that look like ladybugs, others have indiscernible drawings on them, and still others with words written across the top, all obviously done by a child.

For the briefest of moments, Yang flashed back to being a kid and making fun of Blake for painting the rocks on the side of her house. Just like a thousand other kids have done. There’s no correlation. Yet, she found it funny how she’s been gone for so long but, in the last few weeks, it’s as if she’s everywhere and there is a memory of her in everything she saw.

Sun’s knock on the door is loud against the afternoon quiet. Standing about ten feet back with one hand on the butt of her gun, she waits for someone to answer, listening for the slightest sounds of distress inside the house as her eyes scan back and forth over her surroundings.

“Who is it?” a male voice asks on the other side of the door.

“Vale Police Department. We’d like to speak with you for a moment,” Sun announces.

“About _what_?”

“Just want to make sure everything is all right in there. Neighbors heard some screaming going on, so we’re just going door-to-door around the cul-de-sac checking each house to make sure everything is A-Okay,” Sun lies in perfect good-cop fashion.

“Everything’s fine here.”

“That’s great to hear, sir, but I’m gonna need you to open up so we can check for ourselves. It’s a procedural thing.”

There’s movement to the right of Yang that catches her eye. A blonde little girl peeks over the windowsill so all she can see is from her nose up. She smiles softly to try to let her know they’re here to help. She stares at her before ducking out from beneath the curtain and disappearing from sight.

“Brothers’ sake,” the man on the other side of the door mutters before the deadbolt slides and the door opens about a foot. “Everything’s fine. _See_? Are ya happy?” His voice is loaded with irritation as they get a glimpse of him for the first time. She takes a mental rundown: Dark hair, blue-green eyes, a drip of sweat sliding down his temple. He’s wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a tie loosened around his neck. His shirttail is untucked, and try as she might, she can’t get a clear view of his hands so she can see what his knuckles look like.

The man eyed Sun intently and his gaze lingered on his tail, internally setting Yang off.

“They just give _anyone_ a badge nowadays, huh? I’m s’posed to trust an animal to protect me?”

“ _Excu_ –“ The oncoming barrage of insults ceased as Sun placed a brief hand on her shoulder.

Right. She was supposed to be professional–Be the bigger person.

Even if he didn't deserve it.

Sun shook his head, staring at her with eyes that said: _It’s not worth it. I’m used to it, remember?_

Through clenched fists and clenched teeth, Yang spoke. “ _Sir_ , I don’t see what that has to do with his job performance. As he said, we’re going house to house–“

“Yeah, whatever.”

Sun drove them back to the initial point of them being here. “Your _name_ please?” 

“Marshall Malachite, but people just call me Marsh.”

“Thank you, Mr. Marsh,” He says, taking a step closer and placing a hand on the door to open it a little farther.

The man grunts in disdain. “What, you think I’m lyin’?”

“No, sir,” Sun’s smile is broad and disarming. “I’d just hate to lose my job for not crossing all the T’s and dotting all the I’s, know what I mean?”

He moves his free hand from the butt of his gun and holds up two fingers behind his back.

There are two other people he can see in the house.

“I didn’t hear any yellin’.”

“I didn’t _ask_ if you did,” The Faunus responds, making sure the man understands he’s on their time; they are _not_ on his. “Can I see the rest of the people in the house?”

The man’s head startles at the request. “I’m home al—”

“I just saw a little girl run by,” Sun interrupts. “I’d like to speak with her.”

Marshall exhales loudly, his irritation written all over his face before he steps back to reveal more of the scene behind him. There is a dark stain on the carpet where it looks like the plant sitting on the pony wall at his back had been knocked over and the dirt has yet to be vacuumed. From what she can see of it, the house seems clean, which makes that smear of dirt stick out.

“Molly, get over here,” he yells, feet shifting, jaw clenched. With his movement, Yang can see one of his knuckles has blood on it and the others look a bit red. Sun notices it as well, and he slides a glance her way as she takes a step forward.

“And your wife, too, please.”

“I don’t have no wife, she left. I have a girlfriend, the kid’s mother, but she ain’t here–”

“There are two cars in the driveway, sir, ” Sun explains. “So I’d like to make sure she’s okay, too.”

“Was it that damn lady next door who called?” he asks. “She’s so goddamn nosy. Always gettin’ in our business. Last year, our dog pissed on her begonias and killed ’em so now she’s out to get me back.”

“No phone calls,” Sun replies. “Like I said, we’re just going door to door and checking to make sure everyone is okay.”

Marshall eyes both of them. His skepticism is etched in the lines of his face, but he shakes his head and calls back into the house. “Lily. The police are here and wanna make sure you’re okay. Can you come down here to show ’em you are?” He steps back. “Ya happy?”

“Thank you, sir,” Yang says, entering the conversation again just as the blonde-haired girl peers out from the corner of the wall behind him. “What’s your name?” She asks softly as she kneels to get on her level.

The poor thing is scared to death. Her eyes flicker to her father and then to her and then back to her father. She waits for him to nod before she responds. “M-Molly.”

“Can you come here for a second, Molly?” She implores as her mother comes up behind her and places a protective and trembling hand on her shoulder. Molly looks back to her dad and waits again for him to consent before she slowly approaches the door. She reaches the threshold and just stands with her hand clutching the arm of a worn teddy bear. There are matching smears of dirt on her cheeks that tell Yang she’s been wiping away tears.

Her mother comes forward also but seems much more timid than her daughter. Lily’s hair is a mess and her red-rimmed eyes have black smudges under them from where her makeup has run. She crosses her arms over her chest to steady the shaking of her hands. Even though she remains several feet behind her boyfriend, she never looks at him.

_Alcohol or abuse._

It’s Yang’s immediate assumption. It’s definitely one of the two.

“Did you paint those super cool rocks over there?” She asks Molly, using the same soothing voice as before in an effort to earn her trust.

“Me and my mommy did.” She barely nods, but it’s enough for her to try to coax her away from her parents to make sure she is okay and not in any danger.

“Can you show me which ones you did? I bet I can guess because they’re so pretty like you!”

Molly gives her a ghost of a smile, and the fleeting glimmer of happiness in her sad eyes breaks her heart. She looks up to her dad, who does not seem to be too pleased with her request. _Those are the breaks, asshole._ “Can I?”

He nods at her before shooting a glance over his shoulder to his girlfriend.

Molly wrings her hands as she takes a few steps before looking back at her dad as if she’s going to get in trouble. Yang gently places a hand on her shoulder to try to lead her over to where the majority of the rocks are—far enough away that she can ask her questions to make sure she’s okay. Her gut tells her she is—for now—but her mom’s well-being is a whole other story.

“Which ones did you paint?” Yang asks as she squats back down.

She angles her head to the side and stares at her without responding, the willingness to talk to her moments before suddenly dissipating into the distance she put between her and her mother.

”I bet you painted that little caterpillar there,” Yang says, pointing to a rock and hoping she’s correct in her guess. The corners of the young girl’s mouth softly turn up and her back straightens with pride. “And that one there?” She waits for her eyes to find what she’s pointing at. “That butterfly is so pretty. Is pink your favorite color?”

”No. I like blue but I don’t use blue cuz daddy said that’s a boy color.”

Yang shook her head. ”Honey, there is _no_ such thing.”

Yang glanced over to where Sun was talking to the couple, who are still standing in the doorway, and hoped he’s able to get Lily alone for a moment.

“Ahh, there’s an _M_ on that one. I bet you painted that for your name.”

“Yeah.” Her voice is so quiet, and yet, she can hear the fear woven through it.

“That’s what I thought. That looks like a ten-year-old painted it.”

She laughs, but there is no sound. “I’m not ten, though.”

“How old are you then?”

“I’m five.”

“ _No. Way._ I thought for sure you were already driving. Are you sure the car in the driveway isn’t yours?”

Another crack of a smile is followed by an adamant shake of her head.

“And that rock there . . . is that one of your teddy bear?” Yang asks, pointing to the rock and then to her worn bear.

Molly nods. “His name is Meno.”

“Meno?” She smiles. “I thought Meno was a fish.”

“Meno can be whatever he wants to be.”

“You are absolutely right.” _Schooled by a five-year-old._ “Do you know why my friend, Officer Sun, and I are here, Molly?”

She shakes her head, but her quick glance over Yang’s shoulder to her dad tells her she knows exactly why they’re here.

“We’re here to make sure you and your mom are okay.”

“What about my dad?” Her brow furrows, and she wraps a finger in the hem of her shirt.

“Your dad, too. We’re the police. It’s our job to make sure _everyone_ is safe.”

_Even the asshats._

“Hmm.” She twists her lips as if she’s getting antsy, and she knows she needs to get to the point. It’s only a matter of time before Marshall gets smart and tells her she can’t speak to Molly without a guardian present.

“If you weren’t safe, you could tell me, you know? Like if your mommy and daddy got into a fight, and it scared you, it’s okay to tell a police officer like me. They’re not going to get into trouble for it, but it would help me understand why you seem so upset.” Her eyes widen. “Were they fighting earlier?”

“Mm-hmm.” There is so much shame in her little expression that she just wants to pull her into her arms and give her a hug.

“When you get in trouble, does your mommy or daddy ever spank you?”

“Only when I’ve been really bad,” she whispers, eyes downcast to watch her fingers, which are still twisting in the hem of her shirt.

“What’s really bad?” Her eyes flash up, and then she shakes her head and bends over to pick up one of the painted rocks. She turns it over in her hand as she finds the words her innocent mind wants to use.

“When I come out of my room when they’re fighting. Or if I spill my milk.” She shrugs as if it’s not a big deal but everything else about her posture says it is. “Or if I tell anyone about how they fight.”

_Gods._

“Well, I won’t tell them anything that you don’t want me to. Okay?”

Molly stares at her with tears welling in her big green eyes as she tries to figure out whether to trust what she’s saying or not. Yang slowly nods to reinforce what she’s said. “Okay,” she finally whispers, her eyes looking back to where her mom is speaking to Sun with her dad lingering close by.

“Does your mom ever get in trouble with your dad?” Yang inquires, clocking her quick intake of breath.

“My mom doesn’t spill her milk.” She breaks their eye contact and looks at the rock in her hand to avoid telling her more.

“Okay. Maybe she gets in trouble for other things though, huh?”

She nods subtly and then lifts her chin in pride as if she refuses to admit her mom is weak. She has no clue that her mom is actually showing signs of strength to protect her daughter from the brunt of her dad’s anger.

“Did anything happen earlier that you want to tell me about?”

“Molly? Tell the officer goodbye now,” her mom says from the doorway where she stands with Marsh’s arm wrapped possessively around her shoulders.

Molly nods, her little blonde curls bouncing with the movement before she looks back to her. “I have to go now.”

It’s Yang’s turn to nod, even though every part of her is screaming to pick her up and put her in the squad car with her until she knows for sure that she’s safe. “Can I give you something?” She asks.

She glances at them, torn between loyalty to her parents and the safety of a police officer, before looking back to her. “’kay.”

Yang reached into her pocket and produced a sticker badge. It’s left over from the elementary school appearance she and Sun made earlier today, and it’s perfect. “I want to give this to you and make you a deputy officer.”

“You do?” Her eyes widen and voice escalates with awe. Her innocence and willingness to trust is so palpable it breaks her heart.

“I sure do.” She hands it to her. “I don’t give these out to just anyone, either. It’s an important job I know you can handle. This gives you the authority to call the police, dial 9-1-1 on a scroll, if you ever get scared or are hurt or need help.”

She stares at the sticker for a few seconds and speaks without thinking. “What about if my mommy needs help?” Her voice is back to being so quiet that she almost didn't hear it.

“ _Definitely_ use it for that, too.”

Yang holds her hand out for her to shake it. She giggles for the first time, and although she welcomes the sound, she loathes it at the same time. Right now, she’s going to have to let her walk back into that house without knowing anything more about what happened other than the neighbor heard yelling.

“Nice to meet you, Deputy Molly.” Yang gave her a salute that she enthusiastically returned.

She smiles again as she shakes her hand before turning on her heel and walking back to her mother, who ushers her inside and shuts the door on them without a second glance back.

Sun turns to meet her eyes and shakes his head as they walk down the front walkway.

“She walked into the wall,” he murmurs with resignation, and she knows he’s referring to a bruise the mom must have had.

“She wouldn’t give you anything else?”

“Nah,” he says as he stares at her over the cruiser’s roof. “She wouldn’t step away from him so I could ask more. What about the girl?”

She knows he isn’t using names to keep the emotional distance, but for some reason, she can’t do that this time. “Molly?” She reasserts. “I didn’t see any bruises, nor did she say she’d been hit. Her dad spanks her for telling anyone about mommy and daddy fighting, though. Or for spilling her milk. And probably just for breathing.”

She grit her teeth as she reins in her anger. She can’t stay detached. Not from a little girl with big green eyes and soft blonde curls, who has most likely seen more than her fair share of adult things.

“Fucking prick.”

“If only we could get the mother alone to talk,” she thinks aloud.

“We can try another time. Stop by for a welfare check when he’s gone. Maybe she’ll talk then.”

“Maybe.” It isn’t good enough. “He better not lay a hand on that little girl.”

Sun eyes her for a second, she knew her eyes had to have been red, before nodding and sliding into the car to continue their day.

—

“Well, that was crap.”

Yang glanced over to Sun as she cracked the top of a soda open and nodded. “Sure was.”

“And yet, we have jack shit to show for it. No arrests. No nothing.”

“Makes for a long day.” She took a sip as she leaned back and put her feet on the desk she’s currently occupying in the squad room. “If you want twenty-four hour lights and sirens, Sun, then you should move to Mantle. I’m sure the blues there would kill for the slower beat we have.”

“True. But I bet they’re adrenaline junkies. They wouldn’t be able to live without it. Hell, they’d probably freeze to death over there without it.” Yang nods at his statement. “Speaking of which, the fun stuff always seems to happen when I’m out sick.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Scarlet was just telling me in the locker room that you had a ninety five mile an hour-er the other day, but I don’t see it on the reports anywhere.” He leans his hip on the desk beside her and crosses his arms over his chest.

“It was an emergency situation. A woman was speeding to get somewhere,” She explains as she nods a hello to a few more people coming in to roll call to grab their assignments. “I was trying to be nice and just gave her a warning.”

“So, in other words, she was cute.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and takes another sip while thinking of Blake. Her damned defiance and that haunted look she gets in her eyes every so often that makes her want to ask more questions than she knows she’s willing to answer. And then there were those little shorts she was wearing the other day that made her think thoughts she probably shouldn’t be thinking. 

It definitely affected her outside of her head too.

They were close, _so_ close and Yang had half a mind to take her in the back of her cruiser like a high schooler.

“Remnant to Yang.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking about that first call today—”

“The racist asshole and sweet little girl? Yeah, they got to me, too.”

They both fall in silence for a second, and she hates that when she pictures little Molly, an image of little Blake leaving school that day superimposes itself over it.

It’s just because she’s on her mind more than she should be. So much so that she’s projecting her situation onto another little girl when she knows better.

“How about we liven up our day a bit and get some action?” he suggests.

“I get enough. Thanks, though.” Yang laughs just to irritate him.

“Jeez, okay. You’re hot, we get it...and _that_ wasn't even what I meant you narcissist.”

”You said it, not me.”

“Some days I hate you, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you also love me,” She teases as Nebula, the dispatcher, walks down the hall and gives her a coy smile that makes parts of her almost regret walking away from her.

“Shit. I told you she’s still into you,” he murmurs as he watches her hips sway.

“Me and my _cold_ heart.” Yang laughs.

“You sure you don’t want to go out after shift is over?”

“Nah, I told chief I’d stay and do some desk work.” Like that’s a fun way to spend the rest of her afternoon. “I’m reviewing the cold case files for him. Trying to prove how great of a detective I’d be. You know, gotta put a good foot forward if I want that promotion.”

“You’re kissing major ass with the extra hours you’re putting in,” he taunts.

“And I’m loving the OT pay. I can see shopping in the near future.”

“The offer stands. A bunch of us are meeting at seven o’clock at Junior’s if you get done in time.”

“Thanks, but I have other stuff to do.”

“Ha,” he says as he pushes away from the table. “Just make sure you remember her name in the morning.”

“Whatever.” Yang shoos him away as she sits up in her chair to play the role of desk jockey and tackle updating the stack of case files in front of her.

—

_I shouldn’t be doing this._

She shouldn’t have let that old case file she went through get to her.

She shouldn’t have looked at the picture of the victim and thought about both Molly and Blake.

She shouldn’t have let her finger hover over the search button on the file archive site where she had typed in _“Alan Taurus, Blake Belladonna”_ and debated whether she should hit _“find”_ so she could see what exactly it was that happened to her all those years ago.

And now, she definitely shouldn’t be driving out to the airfield to where Weiss said more often than not she could find Blake.

But here she was, looking at the airstrip with hangars lining one side of the field and the airplanes parked to the right of them. On the far side is another parking lot and Vale Skies, an old Faunus skydiving business. It’s been there as long as she can remember, owned by the Skies family, who last she heard, no longer had any family members in town to run or even care about the place. The lack of attention shows in the aged building and faded sign.

_Why am I here?_

_Why am I chasing after someone who is clearly pushing me away?_

Because she wants to apologize to Blake for the drugstore stunt? Yes and no, since she clearly beat her at her own game with that ”medication” request. Or is it because every time she thought of Molly today, she kept seeing Blake’s face when she was little and she knew it isn’t going to go away any time soon.

More likely than either of those is the notion that if Yang sees her, make sure she’s okay, befriends her, then it might just ease the guilt she felt over breaking her promise to her when they were kids. Her adult self knows it was the right thing to do. The little girl beneath the surface still feels the guilt every time she pictures the look on her face as she walked out of Mr. Port’s classroom.

Blake has always been there in her mind. Sure, it’s been a long time since then, but in some sort of way, she knew she’d see her again. She isn’t someone she could easily forget.

Yang scrubbed her hands over her face, and when she looked up, there she was in full living color, walking across the tarmac as if she owns the place. In a flight suit with the sleeves tied around her waist and a purple tank top beneath it. _Fuck._ She had to remind herself to breathe.

As if sensing her attention on her, Blake turns her head to face her direction, and she swears she _knows_ it’s her. It’s the way she angles her head. It’s the immediate straightening of her shoulders. It’s the sudden stalking of her feet her way with a definite purpose.

Yang grins, she can’t help that she does. She loved seeing her all worked up. After the day she’s had, she’s more than ready for a good fight.

But fuck if she’s not trying to distract her in other ways. Like that flight suit of hers and how it likely looked against her form. Blake was just a _masterpiece_.

She scrubbed a hand over her face to try to stop her thoughts from going where they shouldn’t, but they had a mind of their own.

They go there.

Oh, how they _go_ there.

When she’s about twenty feet away from her, she stops and plants her hands on her hips before calling out, “Airstrip’s closed for maintenance. No one called the police. You can turn around and leave now.”

Yang stares at her behind her aviators with her elbow propped on the open driver’s side window. “I’m off duty. And it’s good to see you, too, Blakey.” She grins just to annoy her.

“It isn’t good to see you.”

Was she wrong in thinking irritated Blake was a bit of a turn-on? 

Maybe she was just a verbal masochist.

“Aww, you are simply _too_ sweet for this world.”

Blake’s ears pinned down to her skull, matching the irritation her feline eyes held. One fluffy ear flicked, drawing lilac to the bangs that framed her face and Yang was immediately mesmerized. 

Blake rolls her shoulders. “Sorry, we’re all out of tampons today. You can take your emergency elsewhere.” Sarcasm drips from her voice and only serves to antagonize her to draw this out.

“No emergency,” Yang say as she climbs out from her vehicle and leans against the door. “Just out for a drive and somehow ended up here.”

“Convenient.” She snorts. “You came. You saw. You can leave now because you won’t conquer.” She flashes her a small smirk that just might serve to warm that cold heart that Sun swears she has.

“And you used to be _so_ adorable.”

“And you used less annoying.”

“All this fire from you and I can’t remember doing anything wrong.”

There’s a quick flash of something across her expression but between the distance and how fast it disappears, she can’t read what it means.

But it’s enough to know her comment got to her.

They stare at each other, both of them stubborn enough that they’d hold the line until someone looked away. While it might be a bit fun to push her buttons, she knows it isn’t going to get her anywhere. _That_ she knows for certain.

“Is this where you jump from?” Yang juts her chin to the tarmac behind her.

“What’s that?” she asks as she takes a step closer and furrows her brow.

“The other night at Weiss’ place, a bunch of you were talking about skydiving.”

“And your point is?”

It takes everything she had not to tell her to stop when she begins to put her arms through the sleeves of her flight suit and zips it up. There’s no need to cover up the perfection she was just admiring. And when she meets her eyes again, her knowing expression says she’s been caught staring.

Can she _blame_ her?

“Well?” Blake prompts drawing her back to their conversation.

“I assumed you guys were on a dive team or something.”

She cocks her head to the side and chews on the inside of her cheek. “What do you want, Yang? You weren’t just on a drive, and you just didn’t _happen_ to end up here . . . so what is it, _specifically_ , that you want?”

_Good question._ It’s one she honestly needs to ask herself.

Yang takes a few steps toward her as she does the same to her until they’re standing a few feet apart on the desolate tarmac.

“I’m not sure,” Yang murmurs, more to herself than to her, wishing she’d take those damn sunglasses off so she could see her beautiful eyes. At least then she might have a clue as to what’s running through that mind of hers. 

If it weren't for her ears, Blake would be close to impossible to read.

“ _That’s_ helpful. I’m sure the chief taught you that if you don’t know what you want, there’s no way you can get it . . . so, um, good luck figuring it out. Like I said, the airstrip is _closed_.” She raises her eyebrows and turns as if to walk away.

“What is your problem, Blake?” Yang snarls the words, and _fuck_ if this woman can’t rile her in a flash.

_Why the hell am I chasing a ghost? Why do I even care?_

Blake narrows her eyes but doesn’t walk away. At least she’s not _running_. “You. _You’re_ the problem.”

“Why’s that? What’s so wrong with just being friends?”

“I have plenty of friends, Yang.”

”Cool, but they aren't _me_.”

“Charming.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Arrogance gets you nowhere with me.”

“What is it? What is it about me that irritates you _so_ much? What did I do that was so wrong that when you saw me on Independance Day you _already_ figured out you hated me?” Yang steps into her, her thoughts flying and temper flaring even though she swore she was going to try to calm the situation.

“I’m not irritated,” she sneers.

“Then what do you call it?”

“Hostile.” Blake gives her a ghost of a smile.

“I call it being defensive.” That one hit home. For a split second, her expression falls before she reins in whatever nerve she hit.

“If you don’t like it, then _why_ are you here?”

“I keep asking myself the same damn question.”

“Seems like we’re at an impasse.” It’s that blasé tone of hers that infuriates the fuck out of her. It’s nothing but a mask she’s hiding behind, and she wants to rip it off so she can examine what’s _beneath_ it.

“I’m gonna tear those walls down.”

“No. You’re not.” Those hands of hers find her hips again.

“I know your type, Blakey. You’re used to pushing people away and running–in _every_ sense of the word–as a defense mechanism. You want to call the shots and be in control. _News flash_ , I don’t budge when I’m pushed and no one controls what I do. That won’t scare me away.”

“For the record, behind my sunglasses I’m rolling my eyes at your bullshit tantrum.”

“Some things never change. They’ll get stuck one day, I swear.”

“ _Stop_.” Blake clenches her fists and fights to regain her composure. “I _told_ you, I’m not the same girl you used to know.”

“Good thing,” Yang says as she takes a step toward her, “Or else we’d be having this discussion while making mud pies in my dad’s backyard and eating those nasty licorice gummy worms you used to _adore_.” There’s a crack in her armor, a slight curl to one of her lips.

“There’s nothing wrong with licorice gummy worms.”

Yang cringes in mock digust. “And just like _you’re_ not the same girl, I’m not either. I won’t try to sweet talk you into pouring salt on snails or covering your hand in honey to see how many ants we can collect. Bugs aren’t really my thing anymore.”

She fights her smile, her ice melting. “What _is_ your thing then?”

They stare at each other for a few seconds from behind the protection of their tinted lenses. She knows she should walk away. This is _complicated_ , and she doesn't do complicated, but instead of doing the smart thing, Yang digs in the front pocket of her uniform shirt for her card. “Here’s my scroll number should you ever want to call it and . . . I don’t know . . . hang out at another random drugstore with me.”

This time, she’s granted her smile. “Thanks, but I’m all stocked up on drugstore supplies.”

She deserved that. “Take the card. I’d love to do something—as _friends_ —and catch up on the last ten years.” Yang realized her mistake mentioning the past the minute she said it, but Blake saved her from fumbling with how to correct the statement when she took the card from her hand.

“I’ll take it, but I won’t use it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

“So sure of yourself, are you?”

“You’ve never been able to say no to me, Blake.”

“Oh. _Please_. Take your card back.” She shoves it back at her, but she’s laughing and that’s a good thing. A _really_ good, adorable thing.

“Nope.” Yang takes a step back. “You’ll call. I know you will.”

“I will not.”

“You know you want to find out what happened with everyone else’s lives.”

Yang _knew_ she had to somewhat. After everything, Blake kind of just...closed in on herself and avoided them.

Middle school and high school just wasn't the same without her around.

Blake’s head startles as she remembers their old, little tight-knit friend group. The better times.

“Whatever,” she says as she slips the card into her pocket without looking at it. “For the record, Yang, I don’t fall for the sweet talk anymore.”

“Then what _do_ you fall for?”

Blake freezes momentarily as she gets an odd look on her face that she can’t read before shaking her head. “I have to get back to work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah. Work. I’m in the process of buying this place.”

“The airport?”

”Vale Skies, the skydiving place.”

“You are?”

“Yep.” She turns her back to her and tosses over her shoulder, “See you, Xiao Long.”

_So she is sticking around. Permanently._

_Huh._

Yang watches her walk across the tarmac until she disappears inside the door of Vale Skies. Then she climbs into her cruiser and starts the engine... but doesn't leave.

She doesn't know why she feels the need to work so hard for this.

But she is.

After a bit, she reverses, pulls out of the parking lot, and smiles.

She didn’t correct her when she called her Blakey.

Hell, she’ll take any victory she can get, because she has a feeling that when it comes to Blake Belladonna, they are hard fought and few and far between.

Blake wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

That’s something they _both_ have in common.


	6. Chapter 6

“You really need to clean this place, Blake.”

Blake glances around the loft and shrugs. She has a stack of clothes piled on a chair in the corner that she needs to wash, there’s a mess on the counter of the kitchenette—if she can call it that—and her bed’s unmade, which is usual sometimes.

It depended on her mood. Sometimes they were unpredictable.

“You’re basically the only one who visits this often, and since you already like me, it isn’t like I need to impress your uppity, Atlesian ass,” She says to Weiss as she pours some wine into her plastic glass.

“Sei nicht so gemein.”

“Don’t you start with that. Speak in middle-class, please.”

“ _Anyway_...what you said is highly debatable,” Weiss says with a shake of her head and then begins to stack the paperwork on the card table, er, kitchen table—in some sort of order. “This place isn’t exactly _spacious_. I’m sure it would look bigger if it were clean.”

“Yes, mother. I’m highly aware.” Blake leans back in one of her mismatched chairs and props her feet on an opposing one. “Do you know how _exhausted_ I’ve been lately? Between Tukson and Vale Skies and the loan, I feel like I don’t have time to breathe.”

“Then quit one of them.”

“Easy for _you_ to say. Tukson manages the airfield now. The odd jobs I do for him gives me this roof over my head and the car to use. My job at Vale Skies pays the other bills. And the loan is going to hopefully be approved for enough so I can buy Vale Skies.”

“And then what?”

“And _then_ I can make it what I want it to be. What it _deserves_ to be. Pull the rest of the money for the improvements out of my ass or something, but I have to have it first to be able to make it mine. It used to be a historical place for Faunus and I know the Skies would want it to stay in the hands of one.” Blake could see it all so clearly in her mind, but reality makes it hard to believe it just might happen.

”Blake, I told you I could always–”

” _No_ , and I won’t change my mind about it. I have to do this myself.” She could only rely on _herself_.

“...Alright. I have faith that you’ll be able to.”

“In the meantime, I’ll deal with the exhaustion.”

“But not too exhausted for sex.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

Blake nearly choked on her wine. “What are you talking about?” She laughs.

“Hmm…well the black pair of boxer-briefs over there in the corner tells me there was definitely _someone_ —whether it be for the night or the week or the month is up for debate.”

“Where?” And sure enough, when she looked to where she’s staring, there is a pair of underwear bunched in the far corner of the flat.

“So who’s might those be?”

“I _honestly_ have no clue, I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Blake set the wine down and put it to blame.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fearful of what else you might find when you actually do clean this place...and when you buy a _bookshelf_ for gods’ sakes.”

“It isn’t that bad—” The lift of her eyebrows stops her response. “Okay, a little bit.”

“Admission is half the battle.” She laughs, but it’s her eyes flashing and that mischievous smile sliding across her lips that gets Blake’s attention.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Cue her grin.

“What?”

“You saw Yang, didn’t you?”

_And here we go again . . ._

“Why would you say that?”

“No reason.” Weiss shrugs, but she doesn't believe her. “But you want to see her again, don’t you?”

“Why would you say that?” She repeats.

“Because if you didn’t want to see her again, you would have gotten rid of this.” She lifts her card between her two fingers and hides her victorious smile.

“Uh, Okay? That means nothing. I forgot about it.” Blake lifts her eyebrows and holds her stare because she knows she won’t back down from this unless she does.

“I disagree.”

“Great. Good for you.” She rises from the chair, needing to move and think. Her place is small, and all of a sudden, it feels like it’s closing in on her. “She stopped by that airfield a few weeks ago. Gave it to me. If I cared, I wouldn’t have thrown it in a pile of junk mail, now would I?”

“And if you _didn’t_ care, you wouldn’t be so anxiously irritated right now.”

She’s right, and she knows it, but Blake tries to play it off as she grabs a pile of clothing and tosses it into the laundry basket. “I’m irritated because you won’t leave this alone. She’s become the main topic of conversation between you, Ilia and I for the past few weeks. _Why_? Why is that?”

“You tell me.”

“Don’t give me your psychosomatic bullshit, Weiss.”

“Remember when I came out to visit you on the skydive-my-way-around-the-country-yeehaw-I’m-a-nomad tour you took?”

Her change of topic gives her whiplash. “Where are you going with this?” Annoyed with her _and_ this conversation when Yang already bothers her enough.

“We went to that grimy bar in Mistral. Remember that place?”

Of course she remembers. Too many drinks and constant laughter. How good it was to see Weiss again after meandering around the kingdom for a few months while she got her head together after... everything. “...Yeah. We had fun that night, didn’t we?”

She nods, her smile growing. “There was Nora’s bachelorette party...”

“Oh my Gods. Yes. She was very...wild. And then the strippers showed up. We laughed at how cheesy their moves were.” She could still hear the hoots and hollers in her ears. “We thought he was a police officer coming to kick them out, and surprise, surprise, he was the entertainment....and the girl was...a firefighter, I think?”

“Yes and you, the bisexual of a disaster, would remember _that_ detail.”

“Isn't it supposed to be ‘disaster of a bisexual’?”

“I know what I said.”

“So...I’m a disaster that just so _happens_ to be bisexual?”

“We’re getting off topic here.”

“Continue.”

“Remember when you got drunk and saw him and said that there was something about a police officer’s uniform that you found really desirable and couldn’t resist?”

_Bingo._ She just got to the point of the detour in conversation.

Blake stares at her from across the space where she started to collect some of the clothes strewn about. “Weiss,” She warns.

“What?” she asks, voice feigning innocence as she blinks rapidly. “You can’t resist a good uniform. Yang is a police officer. In a _uniform_. And yet, you’re resisting her.”

“There are a ton of issues with that statement.”

“Like?”

”Well for starters, I don’t have some weird kink for _every_ uniform I see. What, do you think I just blow the mailman for my crossword puzzle?”

”No, but I’d be more concerned about the fact that you’re doing crossword puzzles. On paper. Unironicially. It’s 20–”

”I like the tactile feel of it, okay?”

”Yes, your mountain of paper-back books confirm that.”

Blake glared at her good-naturedly then got to thinking. The second thing wrong with Weiss’ statement was...

Well...

Yang lied.

And just like that, everything she’s been fighting when it came to Yang—every excuse, every bit of irritation, every bit of wanting her near but pushing her away—is summed up in those two tiny words. They have never before crossed her mind, but now they make perfect sense of why she’s acted the way she has.

She’s immediately brought back to the pinky promise. The tears in her lilac eyes when she looked at her before she walked out of the classroom. The pressure in her chest that felt as if an elephant was stepping on it as she made her way to the principal’s office.

Feeling like she was suddenly lost in a fog she should have seen coming, she forgot that Weiss was sitting there, staring at her and walking a few steps to sit on the edge of her bed.

It’s stupid really. To hold that much resentment for so long over something. It’s ridiculous to think that of all the shit she’s been through, that is the one thing she’s harbored subconsciously.

But it is.

She lied. She was the one person she trusted in that whole teeny, tiny world she had back then. She was the one place she felt safe. And normal. She believed her when she said she’d keep her deepest, darkest secret, but she didn’t. Instead, she told and tore her whole world apart.

Sitting here now, in her twenties, she knows what she did was right. Sitting here a survivor because of her, she knows she should actually seek Yang out and thank her.

But it’s so much easier to blame her.

It’s much more palatable to pretend that she was the one who hurt her instead of people she thought she could trust. It’s so much simpler to blame her lack of reliance or want for any kind of similitude on the little girl she left behind.

“Blake?”

The softness of Weiss’ voice is enough to make her blink. She’d been sitting and staring blankly at the ground for Gods know how long, and she looks away. Panic claws its way up her throat as she tries to process her small epiphany without letting her get a glimpse of the past she knows only the gist of.

“Yeah. Sorry.” She shoves off the bed and begins collecting the rest of the clothes and shoving them into the hamper like a mad woman as she tries to hide the trembling of her hands. “I was just remembering when we were kids, is all. How her hair used to stick up all the time and how much I loved hanging out at her house after school.”

“Hm,” she murmurs, and Blake doesn't look up because she hasn't quite gotten ahold of her unexpected emotions yet.

“I lost my train of thought. Where were we?”

“You were going to set me straight as to why you’re resisting someone you're _obviously_ attracted to. Then I was going to reiterate just how _good_ you secretly think she looks in that uniform. Also, I was to inform you that Ilia said that if you don’t let Yang frisk you then she’ll gladly take your place. Then you were going to roll your eyes and tell me I’m jumping to conclusions and that Yang only wants to be friends, which we all know is monumental bullshit. I’d tell you when she looks at you, it’s obvious she wants more than to meet you for coffee at some cafe. You’d tell me I’m making it up, because you can’t imagine spending that kind of money for a cup of bean water, but you know damn well you’ve thought about her in that way too. That when she walks into the room you couldn't be gayer. You’re _so_ gay, in fact, that any and all nearby heterosexuality jumps out of the metaphorical window because it couldn't take it anymore… even though you won’t admit it.” She takes an exaggerated breath. “What have I forgotten?”

Blake laughs. Somehow, she has given her exactly what she didn’t know she needed, her sarcastically sassy, lighthearted sense of humor. It’s drawn her back to the world she created for herself. One where the past is black, and day by day, she makes her own future. Finds her own liberation.

“Then I’d ask you why you’re so invested in this person you _just_ met and why you keep pushing her on me, your best friend, who prefers to keep things simple,” Blake lifts her eyebrows to challenge her. ”She could be a serial killer for all you know.”

Weiss purses her lips and shrugs. “I’d tell you that she’s nice and obviously safe. If she happens to be a ’serial killer’, then I’d pay for your funeral and make sure your eulogy consists of Ilia’s infamous words: _’at least you came before you left.’_ ”

Blake just stared blankly at her friend before she continued.

”Besides, why is it _so_ awful for me, your best friend, to want you to have another person to count on should I walk out the front door and, I don’t know, get struck by lightning?”

“And out comes the guilt card,” she says with gusto. “You forgot something, though, there isn't a cloud in the sky and I’d still have Ilia.”

“Who says we both won’t get struck simultaneously?”

“Whatever,” Blake laughs. “You’re just as irritating as Yang is.”

“Oh, she’s irritating, is she? That’s a good thing, pray tell?” She props her chin on her hands like an eager child.

“A good thing? Not likely,” Blake says, playing along even though _she’s_ the one who has been creating the friction with Yang. Then again, she did do the whole drugstore stunt . . . so, she earned the right to be pissed at her.

“But why does she irritate you?”

“ _Because._ Because instead of writing me a ticket for going ninety miles an hour, like a _normal_ cop, she called my bluff when I told her I was speeding because I was having an emergency and took me to a drugstore to buy tampons for me. _Fucking tampons_ , Weiss,” She explains, fully expecting her to understand. When she looks up, the sympathy she expected to see on her face isn’t there. Instead, she’s grinning ear to ear.

“Oh. _Wow_. So she saves you from a reckless driving ticket, _and_ a possible trip to jail. She sounds like the God of Darkness himself. How _dare_ she be considerate?”

“I assure you, it wasn’t out of the kindness of her heart.”

“You know what they say about love and hate.”

“No. What?”

“That the line between the two are thin. And be careful, you’re rolling your eyes so hard they just might get stuck there.”

She does it again for show. “You forget, I knew her when she was younger. She was much sweeter then.”

“She still seems sweet to me,” Weiss murmurs, her lips sliding into a mischievous smile.

“I told you, I’m not disagreeing with that . . . but she’s _Yang_.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure _Yang_ ,” she says, mimicking the way Blake said her name, “-wouldn’t say no to much when it comes to you.” She rises from her seat and makes a show of tossing Yang’s card on the table before resting her hands on her hips and sighing.

“Uh-oh, should I assume you’re going to finish the rest of our conversation for me?”

“You mean the one where you start making bad excuses about why you can’t call her back? Like how you think it’s creepy to go out with your childhood friend, to which I’d counter with how she’s a childish _adult_ now and who cares? Is anyone keeping tabs? You hung out, colored pictures of rainbows during class, and swung on the monkey bars together. None of those things matter when we factor in the present. I reject that argument. It’s moot. Next?”

Blake uses a pair of tongs to pick up the underwear and puts them in the trash while hating and ignoring the fact that everything she said makes perfect sense. But she doesn’t know about how Yang fits into her past _or_ the particulars, her parents aren't in Vale so that leaves Yang and her family as the only ones near who do. _What about that? How does that make me feel?_

She just didn't know.

“I think you’ve pretty much covered all the bases.” Blake turns to face her.

“Good. Then my work here is done.” She dusts her hands off as she grabs her purse, picks up the bag she set beside it, and holds it out to her. “Food.”

Her face lights up and her stomach growls. “No tartar sauce?” She asks, skeptical as to why she had the forethought to bring her bribery. Weiss nods. “You’re forgiven for your previous transgressions.”

“That’s what I thought.”

—

“Blake, sweetie, your parents had to cancel their plans. Your mom was called in to work. Your dad said he’d be by to pick you up in about an hour.”

That icky, weird taste fills her mouth at the sound of Mrs. Rose’s voice. “Okay.” The word barely makes a sound when she speaks it.

Yang nudges her. “That stinks, but at least we have another hour to play.”

“...Are you okay, Blake?” Summer asks from the porch. She has a funny look on her face that makes her want to cry and get one of her comfy hugs. But she knows that will cause questions. According to Mr. Taurus, questions cause trouble, and trouble is punishable.

Adam would blame her again.

“Yeah. I was just looking forward to spending the night.”

“I asked if you still could, your dad said he would’ve let you if you he knew ahead of time. I guess you have plans early in the morning while your dad speaks at the rally, so it wasn’t going to work. I’m sorry.”

“’Kay.” She shrugs and leans back against the tree trunk next to Yang as she disappears inside.

Her tummy doesn’t feel good, and her hands are sticky with sweat.

“C’mon, Blakey, we can finish making our wine before you have to go.”

Blake looks at the mess they’ve made. The two bowls are full of smashed grapes Mr. Xiao Long let them take off the vines growing in the backyard. Her fingers ache from trying to mash the juice out of them. They made it look easy on their field trip to the grape vineyard last week, but for some reason, she doesn't think the clear juice will taste anything like the red stuff she’s seen her mom drink.

“Nah, I don’t want to make anymore.”

“How come?”

_Because I don’t want to have a playdate with Adam. He’s mean sometimes. A lot of those White Fang guys are mean. The red ones, not the blue ones._

Blake closes her eyes for a minute just to feel the cool breeze on her cheeks. She fights back the sting of tears burning against her eyelids and the sound of her heart beating in her ears. “Just cuz. I’d rather hang out with you.”

“You don’t like hanging around your house much.” Yang knocks her knee against hers. “How come?”

_Because my parents always work and I hate the babysitter. He’s not nice._

She thought he would be a good guy because her parents seemed to like him, but he was a faker. He was a bad guy. He would agree with her dad about White Fang stuff and then talk bad about him when it was just the two of them. He didn't like the ”peaceful way”.

He liked to call her stupid but she was smart enough to know that much.

_“See that scumbag on the ground there? Bloody and beaten? He’s gonna die. Don’t worry, he was a bad guy–and a human–I’m just doing the world a favor. This will be our little secret, Blake. Now, don’t tell anyone or some bad guys might just come for your parents. Might even go after your friend’s parents. Whatever comes next, you remember these words: Never. Happened.”_

_”Say it with me now...”_

_”Never happened.” Blake whimpered._

_”If you see any bruises on Adam?”_

_”Never happened.”_

_”If your parents ask questions?”_

_”Never happened.”_

_”Good girl. Gods, Adam cried when he saw his first body. I thought I had a son, not a daughter. You’re tougher than he is. You know what? You should stay around more often. You’ll be better off with Adam anyway, not that blonde girl. You can’t trust humans and her dad is a cop, they don't care about you. You know what cops do to our kind? They kill them in cold blood.”_

_The little girl nodded weakly._

_”Heh. Tough. You’ll make a man out of Adam yet. Maybe he’ll even be your first little boyfriend.”_

_Blake was glad that his booming laughter drowned out the sounds of her sniffles._

Mr. Taurus’ words fill her ears and make her throat burn. She tries to swallow over it, but she feels like she has one of the grapes stuck there, and it _hurts_.

“Just cuz.” She picks up one of the rocks on the ground beside her and absentmindedly rubs it against the inside of her arm until her skin starts to turn red. “Your house is more fun than mine. You have a sister and a dog and stuff...”

”I thought you didn't like Zwei?”

”I don’t but at least it makes stuff less boring.”

“Yeah, I guess. ...Hey stop it, will ya?” Yang takes the rock from her hand and tosses it. “We could always play at your house next time if you want. I’m sure we could find fun stuff to do there!”

“Thanks, but . . .” she takes a deep breath as she runs her fingers over the red mark. “My house is kinda scary.”

“Pfft. What’s so scary about it?”

Blake shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t need to be scared, Blake. Dad took me to karate! If Ruby tells you she won more fights, it’s only because she’s so fast. But I’m stronger! I’m gonna grow up and be a cop just like Dad and then I can save the whole world! I could totally do it.”

There’s laughter from inside of Yang’s house, and they can hear it from where they’re sitting in the backyard. The sound makes her smile even though her eyes are blurry with tears.

Yang must’ve noticed this as she began to clear her throat and speak. ”...I’m not protecting _you_ and...”

Blake bit her lip and slumped her shoulders.

”Come on, aren't you gonna say it?” She held her hand out for Blake to take, as apart of their little mantra.

Blake accepted her bruised hand and clasped it tightly. ”...and I’m not protecting you.”

”We’re protecting each other.” They finished in unison.

Yang squeezed her hand and gave a small smile before letting go.

”We protect each other, remember?” The blonde murmured, leaning over to make eye contact. The fire of her purple eyes and determined words held an intensity that she has only seen in a grown up’s eyes.

Blake nodded. She believed her. She believed in their promise to protect each other and the words within the promise–even if both of their parents didn't get it and said it was cute, even if it made no sense.

She and Yang understood it, though, and that’s all that mattered. It didn't _have_ to make sense. It was _their_ promise and they would make it make sense.

She believed her. Yang was always protective of Ruby, and when Blake came into her life she noticed that she got the same treatment after a while.

Even if she’s a couple months older.

That was just how Yang was. She had no fear and some kids were scared of that. No one messed with her.

More laughter caught their attention, causing Blake’s little ear to flick towards the sound.

“My mom’s drinking wine,” Yang says. “You know what that means.”

“Uh-uh, What?”

“Kissy, _kissy_!”

“Ew, gross.”

“Yeah,” she says as she picks up an escaped grape and throws it into their bowl. “She gets all giggly and then my dad’ll dance with her in the family room and sing really bad and then the grossness happens...” Pause for dramatic effect. ”They _kiss!”_

“Ick.” Blake giggles but hates that feeling in the middle of her belly that loves the idea of dancing and laughing. “I’ve never seen my parents kiss.”

“They had to have kissed at least _once_ because that’s how babies are made and they have you, right?”

“True.” She leans forward and grabs a bowl as she tries to forget what might happen when she goes home and her parents aren't there. “But if your mom and daddy kiss now, doesn’t that mean they’re going to have another baby soon?”

“That’s not how it works, silly.”

“How does it work, then?”

“Um, I’m not sure.”

”See! You don’t even know, dummy.”

”You are a bad wife. I want a dee-force.”

”No.”

” _Moooom_ , Blake won’t dee-force me!”

—

The asphalt bites into Blake’s shoulders as she lies down on the tarmac in the chilly, early morning air. she needed to escape the loft and the fear that hung in the air from first, her weird nightmare, and then from the confusion she felt after the memory resurfaced of she and Yang as kids in her backyard.

_“We protect each other, remember?”_

That memory only brought upon more that she had locked away. It was like her brain was in a drought before, and now the dam _burst_.

Gods, Yang never stopped being protective and _still_ got bloody noses for her even in high school. At the time, she thought it was just Yang being her usual rowdy self like she’d heard about, until she learned about _who_ she beat the shit out of—the same racist idiots that loved to mess with and bully the Faunus there. Seeing as her and Yang drifted apart, that only put a target on her back. All of a sudden, they stopped and the target disappeared. She could put two and two together.

Yet, Blake spent the entire time pretending she didn't exist. She ignored her then as per usual and they both went on with their lives. Blake would walk down the hall with Adam while Yang made out with some girl by the lockers, pretending that they weren't each other’s first kiss.

At least Yang kept _some_ of their many promises, protecting her from the background, right under Blake’s nose and never said a word.

If Yang even knew _half_ of the things Adam did to her at the time–how he’d take out his anger and resentment towards his dad and his horrible foster family out on her–she would’ve killed him. She knew that for a fact. After Yang told, it only started a domino effect that gave way to an already broken boy into someone darker, someone who put his sights on Blake.

He blamed her like he always had.

Adam only got angrier and angerier as they both grew older and the bruises and marks came more and more often. It almost matched the ones his dad gave to him when he was younger. His anger, though, was more similar to the wrath he faced from his foster family.

It was easier to hide signs like that when she and Yang wouldn't even look at each other. The blonde was popular and Adam kept Blake more isolated. They were worlds away from each other. 

Guess she should have known Yang would end up like her dad, protecting and serving—being the hero and not the villain that Alan said humans turned out to be.

It suits her. The question is, does _she_ suit Blake?

It’s a tricky question, and one she’s not sure she’s ready to know the answer to. She’s lived her life escaping her past, hiding it from anyone and everyone so that no one can ever look at her and blame her lack of success on it. Or just plain look at her differently _at all_.

Yang knows more than _she_ might even know, and that’s scary as hell to her.

So yes, she’s blamed her unfairly, but it’s so much easier to believe _that_ truth—that she is more at fault than the people she thought she could trust. The psychopath who manipulated her and turned his son into an even darker monster that tormented her for years.

Blake has always thought of herself as a fair person.

There’s no reason not to believe that Yang isn’t a good person–that she doesn't deserve her trust, even just a _little_ bit.

Yang only wanted to _help_ her, it was never her fault. She didn't know the consequences of telling would be. No, it was Alan’s fault for it being the way it was in the first place... _and_ Adam’s. He may have had a rough childhood but that stopped being an excuse as soon as he was old enough to know what he was doing. The day she’d be an apologist to someone like that is the day pigs fly.

He was just like his father.

Though, she felt the need to take some blame too. She felt like a coward. She ran from her problems and endured the torment instead of fully taking the opening that Yang gave her.

And, as she sits here on the closed runway with the sun slowly rising in the east, she knows she needs to step outside the box she’s carefully constructed and fortified around herself. She needs to listen to Weiss _and_ her whacked logic and remember what Yang said to her when they were nothing but kids.

She needs to do the one thing she does every day in her professional life but can’t seem to ever do personally: _Leap before looking_.

Yang always said she wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

**Me:** _For the record, I still think it’s a bad idea... but you’re right. You wore me down. A little. Maybe we can get together sometime for a few drinks. Your call._

**Unknown:** _I knew you’d come around :) How bout tmrw @ 6 at Jr’s?_

**Me:** _That works._

**Yang:** _hey would u mind if I saved ur # as Blakey B_

**Me:** _Yes. Because you seem to ignore me everytime I tell you not to call me that_

**Yang:** _too late_

**Asshole:** _and u secretly like it tho_

Blake stares at the string of texts and feels as if her throat is closing up on her. At the same time, she’s excited and nervous and more than anything, afraid. Most of her interactions with romantic interests are fleeting. Sure, they go out and have a good time, but on her part, things are superficial. The first time they lie, they’re gone. And if they can make it past that, then that’s when they start wanting more . . . it’s when they want to talk about pasts and have that kumbaya moment where they realize they’re meant to be together forever or some other bullshit, _that’s_ when she starts pushing instead of pulling.

She only lives in the now. She only lives in tomorrows. She can only cope with the future she _makes_ for herself.

But there is _something_ about agreeing to meet for drinks with Yang that is making her nervous.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s another I split into two.  
> Might be kinda long-ish?
> 
> Oh well, might make up for the wait, maybe.

“You are _not_ chickening out. I will not let you,” Weiss says as she applies another coat of mascara to Blake’s eyelashes.

“I’m not chickening out. And I _don’t_ need all this makeup. It isn’t as if she hasn’t literally seen me before without it.”

“Shush. You need to act like you care on a first date.” She takes a step back to admire her handy work. “If you don’t act like you care, then you’re not setting the standard of how you _expect_ to be treated.”

“But this _isn’t_ a first date, and I think you’ve lost your damn mind.”

“You _are_ hoping to be _frisked_ and _handcuffed_ at some point, aren’t you?” Ilia chimes in. Blake just raises her eyebrows at her when she gives her that sly look. “You won’t admit it but you wanna be bent over, so let Weiss finish.”

”I do not want to be _bent over_.”

”Suuuure. Those volumes of _Ninjas of Love_ say otherwise, ‘Onna-Bugeisha’.”

Weiss hums in agreement and busies herself with curling Blake’s hair when throwing it into a ponytail would be good enough for her. There’s no use arguing with a determined Weiss so she let her have her way.

“I... _may_ have done something in a knee-jerk reaction.”

“What did you do?” Ilia and Weiss both ask simultaneously before staring at each other.

Weiss sets the curing iron down, plants her hands on her hips, and looks at her with warning in her eyes.

“You remember Brawnz, don’t you?”

“Hmm, the foreign guy from Vacuo.” Ilia answers.

“That’s him.” Blake begins to bite her lip, and Weiss squeezes her cheeks to stop her from messing up her perfectly lined lips.

“ _Why_ are we talking about him, and _why_ are you nervous to tell us?”

“Well, I kind of... agreed to meet up with him tonight.”

The reactions she expected is immediate: Brows narrowing, lips parting, eyes blinking, nostrils flaring. “Why in the _ever-loving hell_ would you do that?”

She shrugs, because now that she’s admitted it out loud, it does sound ridiculously stupid. If she’s not afraid of meeting up with Yang, then why did she go and give herself an out for this evening should things get too serious? She doesn't shrink from their stares even though she wants to.

Weiss’ eyes narrow as she pins her immobile. “You have just revealed your cards, Blake.” A grin slides across those heart-shaped lips of hers.

“My cards?”

Ilia tsks as she moves closer. “She’s right, you know. You wanted an out because you know tonight is going to be epic, and you’re not used to epic. You’re used to good sex with a pretty face but nothing behind it.”

“Excuse me? I don’t–”

“Shush.” The chameleon Faunus picks up her scroll from the table beside her and tosses it onto her lap. “Tell Brawnz to fuck off. You’re all Brawnz’d-out for the time being and you’re handcuffed to _other_ obligations. _His_ purple eyes aren't the ones you want to stare into tonight.”

“Fine.” Blake huffs out a breath as she picks up the scroll.

They’re right, but she’ll be _damned_ if she’ll admits it aloud.

—

“Is this seat taken?” Blake asks as she slides into the booth across from Yang. Nerves idle within her, only serving to reinforce her friends’ assumption that she’s already treating Yang differently from how she treats others.

She’s not exactly sure how she feels about that.

“Hey there.” Yang’s face transforms with the warmest of smiles that makes parts inside her, that she wasn’t aware could tingle, come _alive_. They stare at each other for a moment, almost as if there’s a silent acknowledgement that the defensive banter they’re used to has no place here tonight. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Uncomfortable with compliments, she blushes. “You clean up pretty nice, too. Although...you can never go wrong with your uniform.”

_Fuck_. She didn't mean say all _that_.

“So I’ve heard.” A smile plays at the corner of her mouth, referencing back to the first time they ran into each other, but her eyes hold so much more amusement in them.

A waitress comes and takes their drink order. There is ample chatter in the bar but an awkward silence between them. She plays with the cardboard coaster, uncertain what step to take in this uncoordinated dance.

“Blake.”

“Hmm?” She meets her eyes.

“There’s no pressure here, okay? I just wanted to spend some time with you, have a few drinks, and catch up on what you’ve been up to. That’s it.”

Their eyes hold as she struggles with laying down her defensive shield and not running away at the mere mention of catching up. Catching up means talking about the past, and her past is _dark_. And while she may already know the gist of her darkness, it’s hard not to be defensive over something she’s always protected.

“I’d like that.” She doesn't remember telling herself to say the words, but there they are, out in the open, making her grin widen and her shoulders relax some.

“Good. That’s good. Because as stupid as it sounds, I really _did_ miss you.”

_Because as stupid as it sounds, I really did miss you._

Every time Yang laughs, she hears her saying those words. Every time she smiles, she hears her saying those words. Every time she wants to clam up at a seemingly benign question, she reminds herself that she only has to tell her as much as she wants to and thinks of her telling her she _missed_ her.

“Sooo, Blakey, tell me something…” Yang chuckles as she slides next to her in the booth and then pushes a fresh drink in her direction. Her eyes are a little glassy, but her smile is still kind and her humor is becoming of her. “What’s a girl who’s scared of heights doing jumping out of airplanes?”

“Who said I was scared of heights?”

“Oh come on,” she says, patting Blake’s thigh with a tipsy flourish and then absently leaving it there. “This is coming from the girl who refused to climb Oobleck’s tree because it was too high off the ground. You threw up all over his daisies just thinking about it.”

Blake stares at her, flustered by her hand. _Warm. On her thigh. Contact._ When she should _really_ be freaking out that Yang is talking about a memory she has no recollection of, but she can’t. All she can focus on is the ache currently simmering a few inches from where her fingers reside.

“I don’t remember that,” She says and shifts to face her in the booth. Yang moves her hand back to her drink and shakes her head.

“You _don’t_? I made fun of you for weeks, calling you Daisy Belladonna until you got so mad you told me you weren’t going to come over to play anymore unless I stopped.”

_Daisy._ The taunt ghosts through her mind, but she doesn't recall it. She could imagine that little Yang thought herself to be _quite_ the comedian, just because her last name happened to also be a flower. What she _does_ know is that, even back then, they played games with each other. Sure, they were different games, innocent fun, which is a _far cry_ from the cat and mouse they’ve been playing recently...like _now_. But just like then, she still feels the same sense of ease with her. The same level of comfort. She can’t remember a single time she didn’t want to go over to her house to play. It was _safe_ there.

She felt _safe_ there.

Ironically, with a house full of humans that she was supposed to despise.

“No. It’s been a long time.” Blake takes a sip of her drink and instantly scorns how her fingers tremble ever so slightly. 

“But _skydiving_ , B?”

She shrugs. “It’s my peace. For a few seconds, everything is there, laid out before me. It’s _calm_. There’s no noise in my head, just the wind in my ears, and I’m forced to only think of the present.”

“The present is good.”

“Mhmm.” There’s a look in Yang’s eyes that says a million things at once, and she can’t pinpoint any of them, so she doesn't try. “So, a cop, huh?”

“Yep.” She places her arm across the back of the booth, and her fingers automatically toy with a strand of her hair, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.

“I could have figured. All those hours playing cops and robbers on our bikes. You _always_ had a hero complex, wanting to save anyone and everyone...” She’s stepping too close to no-go territory for her. Panic tries to find a foothold, but she ignores it and smiles at Yang. “Remember that time we found—”

“The bullet shell smashed in the street, and we swore someone had broken into the Winchester’s house and robbed them?” Her eyes light up.

“Yes! And we called 9-1-1 because we thought we were real detectives.” Blake smiles wider, thrilled to remember this memory and not draw a blank and feel stupid.

“Yeah...good ol’ Chief Xiao Long read me the riot act for distracting officers from legitimate calls.” She shakes her head and laughs.

“How _is_ your dad?”

“He’s good. Real good. He retired about eight years ago, and I think it’s driving my uncle crazy that he has nothing to do. Occasionally, the force asks him to consult on an old cold case, which keeps him occupied, but other than that, he’s busy being a grandfather.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize any of the infamous Xiao-Long-Rose girls were hitched,” Blake says with a smirk.

“Yeah, totally. I have a little one myself. Actually...I can invite you to the wedding if ya want. Sun is even the groom’s best man.”

Blake’s eyes widened in pure shock. ”W-huh?”

Yang stared back at her for a while, unwavering, before breaking out into laughter.

”I’m fucking with you, Blake. I was just talking about my dog, Zwei.”

”He’s still _alive_?”

”Yeah,” Yang laughed. ”Told ya he could survive a nuke.”

Blake visibly shuddered.

”You can’t tell me you’re _still_ scared of him. He’s old as dirt now.”

”I told you, that fucking dog had it out for me and he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.”

Blake composed herself and turned the topic away from ferocious creatures. “So....no aspirations to be chief and follow in your dad’s footsteps?” She suddenly wanted to know everything about her.

“In time.” Yang shrugs and takes a sip of her sugary drink.

“Give up the routine of sitting in The Donut Shoppe’s lot and doing paperwork?”

“I actually don’t like donuts all that much, and I’m more of a sit-in-the-parking-lot-of-the-cafe-on-Main-Street-and-do-my-paperwork routine kind of cop.”

“A cop who hates donuts?” She holds her hand to her chest in mock horror. “Isn’t that sacrilege? No wonder you haven’t been promoted yet.”

“It is. Actually, I’m up for detective right now. I debated for the longest time whether I wanted it—more responsibility, more politics, and less being on the streets, which is what I love doing the most. But, we’ll see. It’s a long process, and I’m not sure who else has applied for the position. Eh, time will tell…”

“You’re a Xiao Long. In this town, that’s gold, isn’t it?”

“Depends who you ask...” She angles her head and stares at her for a beat, curiosity owning her eyes. “So tell me, you’re buying Vale Skies? Why that? Why now?”

Blake takes a long sip of her wine and marvels at how easy it is for the words to want to spew off her tongue. It’s unsettling; yet, she finds herself wanting to tell her.

She finds herself wanting Yang to know that she’s been _okay_.

”I think my parents were nomadic protestors at heart. After we left Menagerie, we wandered around a lot, moved from one town to the next. A rally here, a rally there.” She smiles softly as she thinks of them. Her mother’s warm kindness and her dad’s fierce protection of her from everyone.

“That must have been hard with school and—”

“My mom homeschooled me for the longest time. Trust was hard for her.” _As it is for me._ “If I was learning about a Kingdom’s history, we’d all take a road trip and go there for a while. We were fluid.”

“That must have been hard, always moving around.”

“It was isolating in a sense because I didn’t have many friends, but it was rich in so many other ways.” She shrugs. “One year, we went through Vacuo where the fire jumpers are based. It was hot and humid, but I sat and watched them practice their jumps for hours. I knew right then I wanted to try it.”

“Did you?”

“Not then. I was too young, and my parents sure as hell weren't going to trust an instructor to get me safely back down.”

“True.” Yang traces the line of condensation on her glass with her fingers.

“I had to wait until I was eighteen for my first jump.”

“That’s a long time to wait.”

“It was.”

“As non-traditional as it was, it sounds like they taught you a lot.”

“It was all I knew.” Blake smiles softly at her, the memories of her parents and the life they created for them so clear despite all the time that has passed. “We _really_ stopped when we made our home here.”

“That had to have been brutal.”

“Yeah, well, when you live in a bubble, sometimes you don’t have the cognizance to notice or even want to care. It was definitely an experience. Gone were the lazy days where we’d finish our lesson and then take a tube and float down river wherever we were to celebrate another day lived to the fullest. I fought my mom on it, but she wanted to settle. Little did I know it was because she was sick.”

“I’m so sorry, Blake, I didn’t know.” Yang’s hand covers hers and gives it a squeeze.

“How could you have?”

_There’s a lot your provably don't know._

_There’s a lot I haven't said._

She squeezes hers back, loving that she keeps her hand there even when the moment is over. “She was fine for a while, after I graduated, I spent most of my time helping my dad take care of her. She fought hard, and the years of being ill took their toll. She’s okay now but it was... _bad_. She can't do the same things she used to do. During it all....the one friend I had made towards the end of high school was my moral support. That was Weiss.” She leans back in her seat and lifts her eyebrows. “This is all a little too depressing, isn’t it? Let’s change the—”

“It’s okay. I wanna know.”

Blake stared at her for a moment, hesitant to talk about one of her deepest sadness, with the hell that was Adam and high school..and her mother, but realized Yang loved her mom just as fiercely as she loved hers. 

It brought up memories of Summer, and she wondered how she was doing.

“I was in a...bad place in high school, and I went through many ways to cope. One day, I headed to a local skydiving school and jumped. It was the only way I thought I could be free of all the melancholy I felt. At first, I couldn’t concentrate, but then I hit this moment in my jump where there was silence in my head. It was almost soothing, and it forced me to think of what was next and where to go from there. It was liberating and sounds ridiculous . . . ” Blake looks to where her fingers are fidgeting with the coaster. It’s weird how _easy_ it is to tell Yang about it when it’s something she doesn't think she’s ever given a voice to before.

“It isn’t ridiculous at all...I understand, trust me.”

She clears her throat and drops the coaster before continuing. “Soon, I said goodbye to Weiss, packed my belongings, and traveled all over the country, going from jump site to jump site...I _ran_ , until everything stopped _drowning_ me.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Nine months.”

Yang lifts her eyebrows, obviously surprised that it happened so recently, and Blake laughs. “By some weird twist of fate, while I was on my adventures, Weiss ended up moving back to Vale. Ilia, as it turned out, decided to go to school here instead of Menagerie. It shocked the hell out of me when she told me. And then I found out Vale Skies was up for sale. I felt like all roads were leading me back here when it was the last place I ever thought I’d return to.”

“Plus there was _me_ , your Vale childhood friend after reuniting with your Menagerie childhood friend,” Yang says, adding a flash of a smile and tip of her strawberry drink against her wine glass.

“Plus there was _you_.”

Yang’s finger twirls absently in Blake’s hair again, and she hates that it sounds so cliché, but her heart really _does_ beat faster.

“I’m glad you came back, Blake. I don't think any of it was stupid. I know it was probably hard, but actually, I think you’re pretty strong for—”

Blake presses her lips to hers to shut her up. She doesn't want to think about how hard it was stepping foot back in this town or how she expected everyone to point fingers as she walked by and remember her as “ _that_ girl.”

She just wants to feel _now_.

And she knows she takes Yang by surprise. It’s in the hesitancy of her lips at first. It’s in the tightening of her finger wrapped in her hair. But it only takes a split second for her to react, to part her lips, _burning_ , and give her the taste of sugar on her tongue. For her to consume her mind and shift it away from the hundreds of thoughts she doesn't want to be thinking.

Yang’s heat and warmth and soft fingers on the underside of her jaw. A hand demanding more on the small of her back.

Her kiss is thunder and lightning, a tornado and a tsunami, all in one fiery package that makes her forget about the here and the now, makes her want more...when _more_ with Yang scares the shit out of her.

The noise of the bar slowly seeps into Blake’s conscience as the kiss ends and they move apart. Yang’s eyes are hazy, but her lips are turned up in a cocky but adorable grin that makes that sweet ache their kiss ignited burn _bright_. She shakes her head, and it mimics how Blake feels: _Yeah...so that happened._

Their eyes hold for a beat as the bar carries on around them before Blake suddenly feels shy under her unwavering gaze. She looks down to her empty drink and stares at the scars on the wood tabletop as she tries to process the sensations running through her. Desire, surprise, and euphoria mix and meld as heat creeps into her cheeks as Yang studies her.

The realization hits that she has absolutely no idea what to do now.

Considering she _barely_ got to be a teenager, it doesn't come as a surprise. How she handled her _adult_ life, was much more different than whatever the two of them are doing now.

Cue the nerves and unexpected panic.

Typically, the next move would be made...

But this is _Yang_.

Didn’t she already know this—the emotion, the sensation, the fallout—would be different before she kissed her?

“Hey, Blake?” Yang’s voice calls through the haze of her overthinking. “I’m gonna save you from the panic that’s written all over your face.” She scoots closer and lowers her voice. “I had fun. I’d love to do it again sometime— _soon_ , but I think it’s best if I go home now. I’ve had a long and crappy shift, but _you_ were the highlight of my day.”

The blonde leans in, and Blakes sucks in her breath, thinking she’s going to kiss her again. The ache in the delta of her thighs only deepens with the scent of her near, but she bypasses her lips and goes straight for her ear. ”I know you want to control the pace and set the standard—make sure you maneuver me into the next move so you can stay one step ahead and on the run—but this was never going to be a quick thing between you and me.”

Without another word, Yang scoots out of the booth and stands to full height. Blake stares at her, fully expecting those flecks of crimson in her eyes to be amused. She only smirks before looking over to the waitress and holding a finger up with a nod.

“I don't tend to lose a lot. Games, that is.”

“You—”

“Have a drink, At least when you put your lips on it, you’ll know it’s from me.”

And with another flash of that cocky grin of hers, Yang turns and strides out of the bar without ever looking back.

“Arrogant son of a bitch,” Blake mutters, angry at more things than she cares to count. That she out-maneuvered her. That she just put her in her place. That she called her out.

_She was bamboozled._

...That she’s leaving and all she can think of is how she wants _more_.

“Thank you,” she murmurs as the waitress slides a fresh drink in front of her.

What exactly just happened? Her head spins at the turn of events and logic tells her that she should be pissed off at her.

But she’s not.

Because as much as it pains her to admit, she was right. She _is_ panicking. She doesn't even know what she’s doing anymore. She’s just trying to figure out why everything seems so damn different when it comes to Yang.

She doesn't like different. She runs the opposite way from different.

Different is _scary_.

Yet here she sat. She hasn't ran away. She didn’t even protest. She just let everything that happened happen, and she knows damn well she’d probably do it again.

And she hates that she loves it.

And she detests that she want more.

The bar buzzes on around her as she focuses on being irritated with her. It’s so much easier to be pissed off than to accept the fact that Yang scares her. And the _good_ kind of scare.

So she looks at the drink she left her in consolation. She fixates on that cocky smirk of hers that makes her want to strangle her and kiss her at the same time. And she tells herself she needs to stand her ground. She needs to be the strong girl she’s tried to be instead of allowing herself to fall prey to the way she makes her feel.

_Yang is crazy if she thinks I’m going to drink this. I won’t just out of pure spite._

_No one tells me what I can and cannot do. Not anymore._

Lost in thought, Blake picks up the glass and takes a sip. “Fuck.” She just fell _right_ into that one. She stares at the dark liquid for a long moment before shaking her head and tilting the glass all the way up until it’s empty.

She could be mature.

She was the epitome of mature.

”That’s it, I hate her. Her, and her stupid face.”

Yeah.

~~•~~

“ _You have a list of case files on your desk. There are a dozen highlighted and the remaining aren’t. You need me to do anything with ‘em?_” Sun asks through the scroll as she pulls up in front of her house.

Yang sighs when she sees a certain car there.

She was not in the mood to deal with anything crazy. Not after her sleepless night complete with requisite cold shower after thinking about Blake and her damn kiss.

“ _Hellooo?_ ”

“Sorry. I just pulled up and Coco is here. I’m sure she’s not alone.” Sun chuckles in her ear, knowing how much it annoys her when they show up unannounced and help themselves to her refrigerator. “Um, the list of case files…do you have time to pull them up and request the rest for me? The non-highlighted ones. If not, I can do it tomorrow before shift.”

“ _Nah, I’m killing time. Today’s quiet as fuck. This’ll give me something to do. When’s the test?_ ”

“Written is in a few weeks. The interview?I’m waiting on the chief to decide. You-know-who is making noise, though, and bringing up that crap with my dad—”

“ _Old fucking news that should have never been news._ ”

“Yep.” She rolls her shoulders as she prepares herself for the onslaught. “Thanks for your help. See you tomorrow.”

Yangs hangs up the scroll and pushes her front door open.

“Ah, look, blondie has arrived,” Coco says as she lifts up a beer in greeting.

“And she looks grumpy,” Ruby chimes in.

“What are you two doing here?”

“It was a rough little league, I dropped my ice cream cone,” the brunette says, shaking her head.

“Seriously? _That’s_ what you have to stress about? Get out.” Yang throws her thumb over her shoulder but then realizes that Velvet is nowhere to be found. “Should I be concerned that your wife isn’t here? And probably has no idea where you are... _again_?”

“Nah, she’s with the kid. I was given a warning to relax because we were showing her a perfect example of what poor sportsmanship looks like.” Coco grins, and she can only imagine what happened for her to get that type of rebuke.

“So you decided to come here and crash _my_ party?” The blonde heads to the refrigerator to grab a drink and grits her teeth over the stash they’ve already depleted.

“You were having a party?” Ruby sits up, not entirely unlike a meerkat.

“No. No party. Go home.” Shaking her head, she unholsters her weapon and walks the few strides to place it in the gun safe before turning back to them and lifting her eyebrows. “I don’t see you moving.”

“Oh, that means Yang has somebody coming over,” Coco harasses, drawing the phrase out and earning a laugh from Ruby.

“No, it does _not_ mean I have someone coming over.”

“Good thing,” she says, “because she’d be sorely disappointed.” She makes a show of adjusting her beret.

“You keep forgetting who’s ex tried to talk to _who_ in highschool,” Yang replies, just to shut her up, but chuckles when Ruby holds a fist over her mouth, points at her, and yells, “Oooh!”

Coco only laughed. ”I will never forget getting my thunder stolen by a mere _sophomore_ but, hey, I would've never met Velv.” 

She never takes anything like that too seriously.

“You are way too chaotic for a child.” She tells her. “No wonder Velvet took her for a while.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Ruby says, always one to defend whichever one of them is being picked on. Coco was always like an older sister of sorts and acted as such. “We treated the team to pizza after they won. We had some drinks and dad asked Velvet if they wanted to stay and–”

_Of course he did._ Yang and Ruby had no kids of their own so Tai was always more than happy to take care of his god-grandchild.

”-so we figured we’d come over here and bug the shit outta you,” Coco finished. “That is, unless you have someone visiting.”

“No, I don’t have anyone visiting,” Yang retorts and throws a pillow at her. “Get your damn feet off my table.”

The brunette laughs, tucking the pillow behind her head. “She _definitely_ has someone coming over if she’s telling us to get our feet off the table and shit.”

“You’re a bitch.” Yang plops down on the love seat and glares at Coco untils she plants her feet back on the floor.

“So, Yang, my young apprentice, the little sister I’ve never wanted, considering I taught you everything I knew...”

Nothing good ever comes from Coco starting off the conversation with those words.

“It’s been a long day, let’s not start whatever it is you’re trying to start,” The tired officer warns.

“Why do we come here? It’s nothing but abuse with her,” Ruby says as she takes another sip of her soda.

“Exactly. If I’m _so_ abusive to you little shits, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” She knows they’re not going anywhere, but she does their typical song and dance anyway.

“Not until we hear the tea.” Coco sits forward and rests her elbows on her knees. “Rumor is you were at Junior’s the other night with Blake.”

“And?”

_She can still taste her kiss._

“Well, obviously, you tracked her down, so what gives? Ya’ll consummate your marriage yet?”

_She can still see that panicked look in her eyes._

“What is it with you guys? Can’t I hang out with Blake and just be _friends_?” Yang asks.

_She can still see the determination in her scowl when she walked away._

“No,” they both say in unison, and it prompts her to sip her own drink because she has a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

—

The wood porch creaks as Yang sits on its steps and breathes in the fresh night air. It’s the first time she’s had a chance to think all day, and considering Ruby and Coco are inside chatting, she’s taking the liberty.

It’s fucking ridiculous that she has to go outside of her own home to relax, but it isn’t like they’ve listened to her the thirty other times she kicked them out in the past three hours.

“Needed a break?” Her father’s voice startles her.

“Dad?”

She looks up to find him walking up her driveway. She was so lost in thought she didn’t even notice when he pulled up across the street.

“I figured you might need help kicking them out. They were quite the pair earlier.” He steps closer, and his silvery-blonde hair looks pale yellow under the porch light.

“I heard Velvet wasn’t too thrilled with them.”

He shrugs, as if to say _as per usual_. “You know how it is. Plus, Clover will take any excuse to get Coco away from the kid for a few hours so he can spoil her rotten.”

“And Coco comes _straight_ to me and does the opposite.”

“True,” he muses before taking a seat beside her on the steps. “What’s troubling you, little dragon?”

Yang glances over at him, and even though his face is etched with perpetual lines of worry every retired cop seems to have, he still has that impenetrable stare. A proud and defiant angle to his fuzzy chin and jaw. “Who says something is wrong?”

He raises his eyebrows, as if to ask her if he’s misinterpreted her demeanor, which prompts her to blow out a sigh, lean her head against the railing behind her, and close her eyes. He gives her a few minutes to gather her thoughts without pressing her.

“I saw Blake the other night.” It isn’t much, but it’s a start.

“So I’ve heard.” Tai nods but doesn’t look her way. Damn nosy people already talking. “What seems to be the problem? Did you have a bad time?”

She giggles. “Just the opposite, actually.” His silence tells her he isn’t following. ”...It’s complicated.”

“Most things are. If they were easy, they wouldn’t be worth figuring out.”

Dad-logic is not what she needs right now, and yet, she finds herself needing to talk through everything.

“She kissed me.”

It’s his turn to chuckle. “And that’s a problem, why?”

Yang pushes up from the step and walks back and forth on the sidewalk before shoving a hand through her long hair. “Because…because I don’t know how to handle it?”

“You’ve never had trouble handling someone kissing you before if I recall correctly.”

Yang internally cringed. He had accidentally interrupted a make-out session or two when she was a teenager.

He was _more_ than happy to help her get her precious bike so she could: _”go somewhere else, for Gods’ sakes.”_

“But this is _different_.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s _her_ , and it’s …everything she’s been through and…”

“How do _you_ know what she’s been through? Has she _told_ you? Has she _talked_ about it with you?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because _I_ was the one who told Mr. Port, Dad. _I’m_ the one who started that domino effect and turned her life upside down.”

“You mean that _you’re_ the one who laid down the groundwork and _saved_ her.” His voice is even but serious, and it stops her in her tracks. Yang stares at him with hands at her side and every part of her confused about one goddamn kiss amidst a _million_ other kisses she’d had.

“She saved _herself_ in the end, Dad.”

“Good. I’m glad you know that. Because you’re right. She did. But let me ask you this, Yang, if she hasn’t said a word to you about what happened before, why does it _bug_ you? How do you know it bugs _her_?”

“How can it _not_?” She raises her voice without meaning to. It’s just that this is like addressing a brick wall instead of talking to the one person who should be able to give her insight on how to handle this.

“If you met her on the street, you would have no idea about what she’s been through. So, if she doesn’t _tell_ you, then that’s how you have to treat her.”

Yang looks at the shattered moon above and realized that it accurately symoblised how she felt. She shook her head, sighing at his claim. “Easier said than done.”

“It is, but it’s _her_ past, kiddo. Sometimes you just have to accept the other’s history and leave it there—as the _past_. It isn’t fair if you use it against her when she’s never even brought it into the equation.”

“I would _never_ hold it against her.”

“Aren’t you already, though?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t be out here stressing about Blake if you didn’t know her history…so that in and of itself says you’re _already_ using it against her.”

She rejects the idea immediately, but the longer he just sits there quietly and stares at her, the more his reasoning makes sense.

“You’re right.” She walks to the end of the pathway and back before throwing her hands out. “Nevermind. This is just my crazy talking. A couple drinks and a kiss shouldn’t amount to me stressing _this_ much about her.”

He gives a non-committal noise.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She snaps.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he says cool as can be.

_He thinks I’m wrong._ Yang takes a sip of her drink but refuses to acknowledge that he’s probably right.

_Because I am wrong._

_This is Blake we’re talking about. Of course, I’m going to think harder and be more careful with her._

_Fuck._

“You don’t understand. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

“There’s this look she gets in her eyes. It’s like she’s perfectly _fine_. She’s sarcastic and witty and _Gods,_ is she _feisty…_ but every so often, there’s this... this _sadness_ , this uncertainty that flashes in her eyes, and it fucks me up. I don’t know how to make it go away.”

“You always did want to help people.”

“Not that again.” The blonde rolls her shoulders and walks over to the bucket of ice on the porch and grabs a fresh beer. She needs it. This conversation is way more in-depth than she’d ever intended it to be.

“No. I’m serious. It bugs you because you want to fix it. You want to swoop in and take the pain away, but I’m sorry, that’s something for her to deal with. You can’t save her from something that happened years ago. Blake doesn't need a _fixer_ , she just needs someone _there_ for her to get her through the present.”

“I know…” She hangs her head and resigns herself to this _feeling_ she has. When she looks back up, she meets his warm, blue eyes with more certainty than she felt. “...How bad was it?”

The widening of those eyes tells her that question takes him by surprise. “That’s not my story to tell you, Yang.” He glances back to the house were Ruby and Coco converse inside about whatever was on TV, and he gets a ghost of a smile on his face hearing them. “I’ll tell you this, though. If it had been one of you, I would’ve stepped on the other side of the law.”

Their eyes hold, and she knows he means it. For Chief Xiao Long to even utter the statement, it had to have been bad. Worse than she thought. Worse than she ever speculated from bits and pieces of information. Worse than she could even stomach considering. He slowly rises from the step, his still-fit body moving a little slower these days, and pats her on the back.

“You’ve always liked Blake. I’m not surprised all these years later that you still do.” Tai takes a few steps toward the screen door before turning back to look at her. “Tell me this. Is there any time you’ve been with her when she hasn’t gotten that look?”

“Yeah.” She laughs. “When she’s mad at me.” She thinks of the fire in her golden eyes that would rival molten lava. The same fierceness in them as she left the other night. Her temper was hot, but it put color in her cheeks and made her spine stiffen some.

He smiles. “Seems fitting. She always did have a stubborn streak.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“So how’d you leave things with her?”

“With her pissed off at me. She wants to be in control so she can keep her distance.”

“Kinda like you,” he muses and draws a quick glare from Yang that doesn’t faze him. “And let me guess, you let her know you were the one who wouldn't let her run. You’d seize the first step that she’s too scared to take.”

“Yeah.”

“Your Uncle Clover would disagree with your line of thinking. He’d know, too, Qrow was just as bad with emotions.”

“So, don’t tell him.”

“I won’t.” His laugh rings out, and she knows the brats inside have heard him so their time is limited. “You already have your answer with how to handle her.”

“What?” She tips the bottle up again.

“Have her let it out. Let her be mad at you if she feels the need to. It might be frustrating. It might not be pretty, but then again, matters of the heart never are. Things that are truly worth it are never easy.”

_No one said anything about hearts..._

He’s still there. She can feel his eyes on her.

Maybe he knew more about herself than _she_ even did.

~~•~~

Blake huffs as she sets the first of six canopies out on the ground and inspects it for any sign of tears or any seams that might need to be re-stitched before she can repack it in its rig.

“Who pissed off Xiao Long?”

She looks over to where Tukson stands with his burgundy, sleeveless shirt on, and a red rag fisted in one hand as he scratches his scraggly beard with the other, and she’s thankful that her sunglasses hide the glare she shoots him. The sweet, but tough, older man who manages the airstrip doesn’t deserve her vitriol, and yet, his comment has fanned the flames of the irritation Yang caused.

Tukson was a former member of the White Fang, but he was actually a nice man. He even helped her get away and offered side-jobs here and there so she could accumulate some money.

It took a while for her to trust him, even just a little bit, but he hasn't steered her wrong yet.

“How do you know Yang?” She asks.

“ _Everyone_ knows the Xiao Long-Rose-Branwens in this town. They’re as much a part of Vale as the grapes that grow on the outer hills near Patch around here.” He adjusts the collar of his shirt, smiling with a grin full of sharpened canines.

If it weren't for the fangs and those claws of his, you probably wouldn't even tell that he was a Faunus. It helped with business. 

He used to own a bookstore, hiding White Fang who didn't want to be found in the basement below. He helped them until they were safe and got on their feet again. No one was none the wiser.

“For the record, I didn’t piss _anyone_ off.” She walks to the other side of the canopy, which is starting to billow from the breeze, and forces herself not to rush through the inspection. These chutes stop their falls, so it definitely doesn’t pay to be hasty.

“If you didn’t piss her off, why’s she been sitting at the end of the runway for the past hour?”

“She is? I didn’t notice.” She doesn't even venture to look the way of her police cruiser where it sits blaringly out of place because she refuses to give either of them the satisfaction of knowing she’s been paying attention.

“Yep. Right out there.” He lifts a chin and eyes her as he tries to figure out if she’s lying or not.

“Mhm.” At this point, the less she says the better.

“D’ya want me to go find out? Maybe she’s interested in jumping. Having a Xiao Long here might be good for business.”

“No. She’s not worth the wasted breath. Thanks for the offer, though.” She squats and begins the methodical process of packing the first canopy into its pack under the scrutiny of them both. Each minute that passes only serves to annoy her further, until she’s huffing every few seconds to show some kind of resistance.

“Well then…” Tukson’s boots scuffle against the pavement until they are in her eyesight, prompting her to look up at him. “I put a to-do list on your desk. It ain’t too long, but…it has to get done.”

“I’ll take care of it in a bit. Thanks.” Blake focuses again on the task at hand. After a minute, she hears him turn and head back inside, leaving her alone to ignore Yang.

Over the next hour, she works on the next five packs, well aware of Yang’s presence. Reminded of the kiss they shared. Of the situation she laid down. Of the frustration she feels every time she thinks of her—which is a lot—when she doesn't want to think of her at _all_.

She isn't one to be _“handled”_.

Even being firm in those beliefs, the scene from the bar plays in her mind over and over again. By the time she’s done, she’s hot, tired, and _irritated_ to all hell.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Marrow asks as she slams into the front office of Vale Skies, stomping her feet like a tantrum-throwing toddler.

“Don’t ask,” Blake grumbles as she walks right past him and into her office, shutting the door behind her. He stares at her through the glass door, completely confused, so she turns to stare out the window, which, of course, _directly_ faces where Yang is parked.

_Brothers have mercy._

Her scroll is in her hand, and she’s pushing send without thinking anything through.

_“Officer Xiao Long speaking.”_

“Don’t give me your _‘Officer’_ bullshit. How about Officer Stalker? Or Officer Asshole? It looks like you’re a _real_ crime-fighting hero, sitting out there at the end of an empty runway.”

Her chuckle fills the line and grates on every nerve that isn’t already shredded. _“You never know where a crime may occur. Could be anywhere.”_ There’s a slow, relaxed drawl to her voice.

“Huh.”

_“Like it damn sure is a crime how good you look in that flight suit...folding, like, parachutes and stuff.”_

The Faunus clicks end on the device and stews as she paces the short distance of her office like a caged animal. Yang’s going to sit out there for over an hour and that’s all she has? _Jerk._

She hits the button again and grits her teeth harder with each and every ring. Yang _finally_ picks up on the fourth one, right before it goes to voice mail.

“Seriously? That’s the _best_ you can do? You’ve gotta work on a better line than that.”

_“I knew you’d call back.”_

“You’re infuriating.”

_“Perhaps.”_

“No, definitely.” She sits in her chair and then stands again, too antsy to stay still. “Why have you even been sitting out there? If it’s just to annoy the hell out of me, you’ve succeeded. Whatever else it is you’re trying to do, it isn’t going to work,” She lies.

_“Mmm.”_

“What’s _that_ supposed to—Oh…” The light bulb flicks on. “I see what you’re doing here, Xiao Long.”

_“And what’s that?”_

“You’re trying to get the upper hand.”

_“Am I now?”_

“Quit answering everything I say with more questions,” She throws her hands up in exasperation.

_“Why does that bug you?”_

“Ugh. You just did it again!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” she says, and Blake can hear the smile in her voice, but she’s not going to play into her question carnival again.

“I’m not letting anyone control me or any situation regardless of what one particularly annoying woman may think.”

Her laughter fills the line again, and she hates that with as mad as she is at her, it’s still airy and _attractive_. _“You sure about that?”_

“Very sure.”

_“You might wanna double-check that hill you’re so eager to die on.”_

“Why’s that?” She narrows her brow as she stares out at her cruiser.

_“Because I’ve already gotten what I came for.”_

“Yeah? What’s that?”

_“You thinking about me. That’s quite a luxurious, rent-free lifestyle in your head for someone you hate, huh?”_

The line goes dead.

And before she can make it out of the building, temper leaving smoke in her wake, her cruiser is already pulling out of the driveway onto the main highway. A mocking siren echoed in the distance.

“You thinking about me,” She mutters in disgust.

Because she’s _right_.

_I am_.

And hell if she didn’t just get the upper hand anyway.


End file.
